


Pattern Of Regret

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s chance encounter with a group of Vampires introduces him to a hunter who doesn’t much like attachments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I don't make a habit of using those kind of pick up lines," the man hooked his arm on the counter top beside Sam, leaning into his side. "And I see you've got a full drink there, so I’ll just start by saying hello."

A half smile crept onto Sam's mouth, the kind of smile that he was pretty sure said _it won't be easy but I'm interested_.

"Hello," he said. Shifting slightly he got a better look at the man standing beside him. Thick long blond hair framed his high cheeks and there was one of those looks on his face that lead Sam to believe he was the kind of guy who was accustomed to getting his way. It wasn't that he looked smug - just _that_ confident. Good looking guy. His features were a bit rough like he belonged somewhere more rugged than a nightclub, like he should be dressed in beat up jeans and a torn shirt instead of the linen pants and button down shirt he was wearing. "You have an interesting face," Sam murmured.

The man lifted a hand up through his hair, slight smile playing across his lips. "I've heard that. You have fantastic hair." His eyes dropped Sam's way once more and his smile strengthened. "I have a thing for hair and yours? It's the kind that begs to be pulled. So, you got a name or should I guess?"

Raising an eyebrow Sam dropped his head to hide his grin. Oh, this one was going to be fun. One of Sam's weakness apart from the whole _bad boy_ thing was witty banter, someone with a brain. "Sam.” He took a sip of beer and set his glass back down gently. "And you are?"

"Christian," the man turned, dropping onto the stool beside Sam, hand spreading out across the bar top between them. "See, this might be the time in which I'm supposed to say, what do you do? Or, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this? But well, I've never been here before so I have no idea what type of place this is and I think we both know what you _do_ likely won't matter in the long run."

"It won't?" Sam turned slowly on his bar stool, knees grazing past Christian's. "So, you're just looking for someone to chat with for a while?" He locked his eyes with the man's, a slight smile on his face.

Smirking, Christian dipped his head, gaze fixed on the ground for just a moment. "Chat. Or something like that." His eyes shot to the side lightning fast before returning to Sam just as quickly. "So. Are we, waiting for someone Sam? Or are we settling in to just enjoy each other’s company and see where it leads?"

"I'm not waiting for anyone." Sam's lips twitched and he reached for his beer. There was something unusual about Christian, above and beyond his exotic features. There was a strange fluidity to his movements - almost as though he moved in slow motion. "You are _so_ not from around here." Sam couldn't resist a small laugh.

"No, I'm not even pretending to be," the man slowly trailed his fingers across the polished surface, purposefully brushing the top of Sam's hand. "And you are then? This town is your own?" The bartender stepped up to them and Christian ordered a beer, glancing toward Sam and gesturing. "I was kidding about the drink buying, if you're interested."

"I'm good," Sam curled his fingers around his beer and tried to forget about the wonderful flare of heat from the man's touch. _New_ and _exciting_. "Born and bred local." He peered sideways at Christian, studying his face. _God_ , he'd love to sketch the guy. "Art teacher, oh. But you don't care to know that do you 'cause it won't matter a few hours from now."

"Maybe more than a few hours," Christian grinned, pushing off his stool and pressing into Sam's side with purpose. "Honestly? I'm not really the bar type. Came here on a whim. I don't suppose you'd be interested in oh, taking a walk, or finding somewhere more comfortable to talk." Christian traced the tip of his finger in condensation and gave Sam a warm, slightly predatory smile.

Sam wet his bottom lip and his smile faded. "I would," he slid off the bar stool feeling the flush on his cheeks deepen as his body slid down the other man's when his feet dropped to the floor. "Uh," Sam was smooth to a point then his body kind of betrayed him. "My studio? It's not far from here."

"Kane," a gruff voice from not two feet away had both men turning. "Fancy running into you here."

The smile on Christian's face dimmed, shifting into a scowl. "Dean Winchester. Still trailing along behind us hmm?" Christian's hand dropped low on Sam's back, pushing him slightly. "Sam and I have places to be, right Sam?" He turned a warm smile to Sam, tight around the edges.

Nodding slightly Sam's eyes dragged over to the other man. _Dean_. He was tense and had an aggressive air about him. There was obviously something going on between he and Christian. "I, uh. I'm not getting in the middle of something here am I? Because I... I don't do that." The cool pressure of Christian's hand on his back was pretty hard to ignore and Sam found himself unconsciously settling back into it.

Dean glanced up at the man, Sam, and shook his head slowly. "No. You couldn't pay me enough to touch Kane here. And trust me, there's not a lot I won't do for money."

"Christian, is there a problem here?" A dark haired man stepped slightly up to the group before snarling. "Winchester."

"Ah shit, you're all here." Dean sighed long and hard and rolled his shoulders back, curling his fingers into fists. His eyes lifted toward Sam and he smirked. "How are you with running?"

"Running?" Sam leaned further back against Christian as a crazy glint appeared in the green of this - Dean's - eyes. "Uh-"

Before the man could finish his thought Dean's arm snapped up, slammed into the creature behind him and spun him halfway across the bar. The priority was getting Christian away from what would be his latest victim. Alright, Dean could admit to being just a little on the sloppy side, especially considering he hadn't gone through the effort of figuring out exactly how many of Christian’s group was lingering around or outside the bar. Or close enough to get there within a few short minutes.

"Fuck," he spat as an arm wrapped around his middle and Dean was left with little choice but to snap the pool cue on the nearby table in half and jam it backward, taking care of the problem and likely scaring the shit out of any human within eyesight. Small price to pay to get rid of even one of these stupid fuckers. They were a thorn in Dean's side and he was _really_ looking forward to offing them all.

"Dean, I'd be smart about this if I were you," Christian growled and now he had Sam's body pinned up against his despite the height difference. Dean could see his fangs too close to flesh and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh shit, oh shit, the vampire's gonna bite himself some random guy in some random town, whatever will I do?" Dean sighed with a practiced flare of drama and brushed at some lingering ash on his leather jacket. His eyes caught Sam's and he wondered how the man might react when he got him free. He really needed someone who was going to be able to run. Because Dean? He was pretty fucking strong but that guy was _huge_ and there was no way he'd be able to carry him. Especially if he passed out. "Give it up Kane, you know I know your weakness. And, it won't be hard to figure out which one it is. Let the guy go and we can pick this up tomorrow in some other shithole yeah?"

Sam struggled slightly, "Christian?" His eyes darted from Dean's face to the broken pool cue in his hand. "What the _fuck_ is going on?" Struggling harder he realized he couldn't pull away from him. Stupid, because the guy was barely holding on to him.

"Now, now Sam, you're awful pretty and I'd hate to have to kill you before I have some fun with you," Christian purred into his ear, eyes still fixed on Dean past his neckline.

Sam shuddered. _Vampires_ was still running through his mind and he was no longer sure which of the men standing around him had the potential to be sane.

Dean bristled. He _hated_ vampires. Not only were they cocky S.O.B.s - and therefore you _always_ had to deal with one or two rounds of banter before you could get to killing them - they were the toughest kind of opponent. Fast, smart, able to see situations and outcomes and build from there. Like a hunter on the bad side of the scale. With that in mind though, Dean _knew_ each had a weakness. Christian's happened to be the blond boy lingering along the edges of the crowd.

Lifting his shoulders in a quick shrug once more Dean half laughed, turning to his side and stretching one arm then the other across his chest. "Oh Kane, you're just, so smart huh?" Dean drummed the broken pool cue across his knuckles, surveying the handful of men and women that surrounded them.

They were all vampires, and _shit_ Dean hadn't even realized how many were part of Christian's pack. He'd been tracking them for hundreds of miles, he should have known better. "Eeny meeny miny mo," Dean waved the pool cue across the group, letting it settle on the blond in question.

The ripple affect across the group was immediate and Dean smirked. "Bingo. Hey precious," the laugh that fell from Dean's mouth was probably too amused. "Seems like you've got V.I.P. stamped all over you, I like that in a man." Truthfully even if the blond had been human, he wouldn't be anywhere near Dean's type. At once the group closed in but Dean was one step ahead, anticipating it. He spun swiftly, caught the young vampire in his grasp and held the pool cue a few inches from his chest. "Ah ah, wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Dean," Christian growled and squeezed Sam tight enough it looked almost painful. Dean winced in sympathy; he knew how that sort of thing hurt. Sam would be bruised in the morning. "You let him go and I won't kill this boy."

Sam gasped for air as Christian's fingers dug into his flesh. If he were paranoid he'd be convinced that the grinding sound he could hear was the bones in his neck rubbing together. His eyes widened and his hand flailed, knocking his glass off the bar. All the men around him completely ignored the crash and the scattering of broken glass. Sam wrenched his face away from Christian and struggled uselessly. He could hardly breathe and panic was starting to overtake fear for the first time since all this started.

"How about, you let _him_ go and I won't put a stake through your mate here." Dean brought the sharp point of splintered wood down, pressing it with enough force into the blond's chest he hissed. "And get your vampire filth to back off, I need some breathing room."

The irony made Dean smile. The vampires didn't seem as amused by the comment as he was. Christian flicked his hand or hair or something and they backed off. "Are you, Dean Winchester, suggesting an actual _trade_? And you expect me to believe you won't attempt to kill us?"

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Oh, I'm most definitely going to try and kill you. But maybe I'll just give you tonight to get out of town. I'd probably be bored if you were all dead anyway, nothing to do and all. So. Give me Sam, and I'll give you," Dean looked down at the vampire pressed into his chest and rolled his eyes. "I'll give you this."

Clearly, judging from the hard line on Christian's face, he was less than pleased with this arrangement. "Fine," he snapped and moved forward.

"Wait," Dean pressed the pool cue in harder and the vampire hissed; Christian's movements stopped. "Seriously, Kane? You think I'm that stupid? You clear this group out of here. I want them _gone_. And if you so much as _think_ about following myself or Sam, I'ma be back at dawn, with a special treat just for the lot of you."

Christian scowled at him, turned his head to the side and literally _hissed_ before nodding at the surrounding vampires. They were gone within minutes and Dean waited a few more just in case. "Give me Chad." Christian growled and curled his free hand around Sam's neck.

It was almost impossible for Sam to breathe. He clawed at Christian’s hand, scratching his own neck and doing absolutely nothing to the fingers that were cutting off his oxygen.

"Chad?" Dean's eyes widened and he laughed; clear and loud though the moment should have been anything but funny. "Chad the vampire? Oh shit, that's the scariest thing I've ever heard." The vampire against him might have mumbled something - probably _shut up_ \- but Dean gave it no thought. "Same time, no funny business Kane, you know I could kill you both before you could reach the door."

"I think you're giving yourself _way_ too much credit," Christian rolled his eyes and practically threw Sam toward him.

In one swift movement Dean lunged forward, shoving _Chad the vampire_ across the bar toward Christian and snatching Sam around the middle. He didn't give him a second to process things, instead using the man's momentum to pull them from the bar out the back door and directly for his Impala parked behind a string of dumpsters. Yanking the door open Dean shoved the man into the front seat, waiting just long enough for him to be safely tucked inside before slamming the door and sliding across the hood on his ass to get behind the driver's wheel.

Dean didn't stop driving until he was a good fifteen blocks away. Then he pulled swiftly to the side of the road, shifted the car into park and turned off the ignition.

"Whew," Dean blew out a low breath and shook his head. His eyes slowly moved across the seat to Sam, who looked nothing short of panicked, and he dragged a hand across his face. "Hey there, I'm Dean Winchester and uh, you probably have a lot of questions." Dean _hated_ these conversations.

Sam was shaking so bad he could barely focus on anything. His fingers fluttered up to his neck to wipe through the damp warmth he could feel. Turning his hand he could see blood under his nails. "What-" he coughed, his throat protesting as he tried to speak. Wincing, he swallowed and shifted as far away from _Dean_ as he could. "What the _fuck_?" It was barely a whisper and Sam found himself reaching for the door handle.

"Okay, alright, Sam? Take a breath, just slow your roll for a minute and give me a chance to explain because I think you might be in for some serious shit if you try and go out there alone." Dean held Sam's gaze, telling him through a hard stare how serious he was. Sometimes Dean thought putting things bluntly was the only way to go.

"Christian and those guys? Vampires. And yeah, he was going to kill you. Maybe not tonight, hell he might have even made you one of them but," Dean shrugged and dropped back against the seat, sweeping his gaze across the dark street ahead of them. "But, we're safe. For now."

"K..Kill?" Sam yanked hard on the door handle and his fingers slipped off, "fuck." Grabbing for the handle again he managed to get the door open and fell to his knees. Swearing again he scrambled to his feet and broke into a run. The ditch beside the road came up too quickly and he stumbled, fell and slid down into it before frantically scrambling up the other side.

Vampires? Killing? Sam was _actually_ hoping that someone had slipped something in his drink and this was some kind of messed up nightmare or hallucination or something. Already finding it hard to breathe he fell on the ground when he made it up the other side of the ditch, panting.

Dean flinched and pushed his hands up through his short hair, tugging slightly in agitation. Alright, yeah, sometimes Dean didn't use his brain very well. Kicking the door open, Dean made swift work of following after Sam, catching his arm on the other side of the ditch and stopping him as he rose. " _Hey_ ," Dean curled his fingers hard around Sam's arm and turned him. "I know you're freaking out, I _know_ it's a lotta shit to deal with but _damnit_ it's not safe for you out here right now. So will you just, can you just, c'mon. Get back in the car. Let me drive you home." Dean tried for a sympathetic, understanding smile. He thought it probably didn't look too convincing.

Shivering, Sam pulled weakly against Dean's grasp. "Vampires," he whispered. It was impossible not to let his eyes dart around the landscape. Blinking a few times he swayed slightly and coughed again lifting a hand to grasp Dean's t-shirt.

"Yeah, I know. It's never easy to hear," Dean squeezed Sam's arm under his palm and smiled a little more genuinely. "Let's just, you got some beers at your place? We can have a few beers and I'll tell you anything you want to know." It made him twitchy being out here. He figured it wouldn't take Christian long to ensure his mate was alright before he was eager for revenge. Dean kind of didn't want to be in town when that time came.

Nodding weakly Sam stared down into Dean's eyes. His mother always said you could tell a person's true intention by their eyes and Dean's looked kind in some crazy kind of way. _Honest_.

"Okay," Sam didn't loosen his grip on the man's shirt, "okay. Beer." Blinking slowly he raised his other hand to his neck again. _Fuck_ , he'd never been shaken like this before in his life.

"Okay, good. Yeah, come on," Dean urged quietly, trying to be encouraging. Some things he just learned with time. How to stop a person who'd just witnessed some crazy ass supernatural event from losing their mind? Yeah, all these years and it came only slightly forced to Dean. "Sam? Sam what?" He was trying to distract the guy. He could _feel_ the man’s whole body vibrating with nerves.

"What?" Sam turned and blinked a few times as Dean's words sank in. "Oh. Colt. Sam Colt." His hand slid from the man's shirt and he took a few hesitant steps forward. "You. You're Dean." Dean, who apparently seemed to have a problem with a vampire named Christian and his _mate_. "Chad the vampire?"

Snorting a laugh Dean nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping across the field as they headed back across the ditch. "Yeah I know, Chad the vampire. Fuckin' funniest thing I've heard since I came across Wilbur the ghoul a few months ago."

Still smirked, Dean glanced toward Sam and pursed his lips together. Yeah, he should probably restrain from talking about ghoul's for awhile. "Colt huh? Ironic." Dean's head bobbed in a nod, eyes constantly scanning up and down the street just in case.

"Ghoul?" Sam's step faltered and he looked down at the ground for a few moments trying not to fall down into the ditch again. Vampires and ghouls. Vampires named _Chad_ and ghouls. Sam suddenly felt like he was going to be sick, or pass out. Maybe both.

Walking around to the driver's side, Dean hooked his arm on the top of the metal surface and sighed. "Try not to think about it Sam, let's just get in. Come on, I promise you're safe with me alright?" Once more he tried for that warm, pleasant smile. Dean couldn't imagine it looked warm or pleasant but, he tried.

Smiling weakly, Sam reached up and shoved his hair back off his forehead. "You got a cloth or something? My throat-" He coughed again, staring at the drying blood under his nails.

"Oh uh, yeah. Shit, hold on." Dean tugged the back door open, dug around his bag on the floor before retrieving a dark blue bandanna. He climbed behind the wheel and waited for Sam to join him before holding it out. "Here. We should get you some sugar too. Candy or something. It's uh, a shock thing."

"Candy," Sam murmured. He pressed the cloth to his neck and leaned back heavily onto the seat with a sigh. "Jesus Christ." He'd never been so scared in his life, and really, he wasn't quite sure that was over with. He didn't know a thing about Dean except that he'd seemed to be the better choice out of all the men he'd seen in the bar.

Sam's eyes drifted along the seat and up to Dean's face. "You have a lot of freckles." It seemed somehow, out of place. The gruff voice, the leather jacket, the beaten-up-by-life rugged features. But then, the crooked smile didn't seem all that _fitting_ either.

"Yeah, too many days in the sun as a kid." Dean turned the key in the ignition and shrugged, glancing over at Sam. "So uh, you were gonna go home with Christian huh? That your type of vam... guy?" He almost slipped up, almost said vampire, but caught himself in time to hopefully not cause permanent damage to Sam's psyche.

"You mean before he tried to crush my windpipe? Yeah, I guess." Sam shrugged and dropped the bandanna to his lap. It already felt like a million years ago; that low voice, the blond hair, the touch. Sam shuddered and turned to look out the window. "How did he do that? He was strong." Sam winced when he swallowed. Tomorrow his throat was going to look like he was strangled in his sleep.

"It's an undead thing. Super strength. Don't ask me, the logic is fuckin' whack." Dean snorted, rolling his shoulders and falling into silence for a few minutes. "Uh, Sam. I know you're in shock and all but, directions? I could go for that beer now." It would be Sam's way of paying him back. Maybe he could even crash on his couch or something. Dean only liked to charge when he was requested to help and while he was sure Sam would have asked, the Christian thing went deeper than that.

Blinking a few times, Sam looked back out the windshield and took a few moments to get his bearings. "Turn left at the first set of lights." Turning back to Dean Sam studied the man's face. He looked perfectly relaxed now; it was as though he hadn't taken on a handful of guys less than twenty minutes ago. No sign, in fact, that he was rattled at all. "What's your deal?"

The question had Dean smirking only because he got some variation of it constantly, no matter where he went. With guys like Sam, trying to process things without completely losing it, it was _what's your deal_. With women it was mostly, _tell me your story, how did you get to this place_. It was always the same though and Dean knew this conversation already. "I'm just someone who knows a little about a lot of things and it gets me by. Part of my knowledge happens to extend to... vampires. And stuff." Dean shrugged as if it were no big deal to him because it wasn't.

"Were you following him?" Sam couldn't bring himself to use the name _Christian_. His body was still reeling from the switch from being turned on to scared out of his freaking mind in less than thirty seconds. It wasn't something he'd ever encountered before.

"For a while now, yeah. Started trackin' him and the rest back around Louisiana. Been following the carnage across the states." It had been one of the most maddening hunts Dean had been on in awhile but he'd be lying if he said he didn't get some little thrill at it. Things got easy, he got bored. Dean got in trouble when he got bored.

"So look, there's some precautions I'm gonna teach you. Chances are, Kane's just gonna head out of town and I'll go track him down somewhere else but uh, it's been awhile since they stopped long enough for-" Dean cut himself up sharply and looked at Sam, slowing as he reached the end of Sam's directions. "Which building?"

"Uh, the brown house over there," Sam lifted a still shaking hand to point down to the end of the street to his house nestled in behind some old Rowan trees. "There's a driveway. Stopped long enough for what?" Sam's gaze drifted back to Dean.

Dean didn't answer until he'd pulled into the driveway and climbed out, rising to his feet. He waited longer, stalling as Sam stood and shut his door, the noise echoing along the dark street. "They normally get their dinner to go." Dean finally said, locking the doors and stuffing the set of keys into his coat pockets. "So the fact that he stopped to have a real conversation with you. And try and take you somewhere, well, it means you really caught his eye."

"Caught his-" Sam sucked in a breath and moved quickly up the driveway and then the stairs. He stumbled on the top step and stood there rooting around in his pockets for the keys. When he finally pulled them out his hands were still shaking so badly the jangling of the keys was enough to wake the dead. Feeling the colour drain from his cheeks Sam turned to Dean as he climbed the steps. "Could you..." He held out the keys.

Grasping the keys Dean nodded and turned toward the door, twisting the lock and shouldering the door open. "You live here alone?" He asked over his shoulder, gazing flickering past Sam out to the street once more. So far so good.

"Yeah. What do you keep looking for?" Sam spun around and backed into Dean knocking him into the door frame. "Is - are they gonna follow me here?" It just took the mere thought of that cool hand around his neck to speed up Sam's breathing. Leaning back against Dean he could feel his body start to shake again. It was the fucking middle of summer and he was shaking.

Wrapping his arm around Sam's middle, Dean guided him inside, searching the wall with his free hand to hit the light switch. Automatically his gaze swept over the open front hall, taking in paints and decorations - artsy stuff that made no real impression on Dean. He realized a moment later that his arm was still around the man and he dropped it, turning to press the lock into place and pull at the sleeves of his coat. "They might follow you. They haven't yet but, you know, maybe steer clear of the bars for a few days." Dean shrugged out of the leather, pushing up at the sleeves on his arms.

"Okay, I don't. I mean, I don't go very often." Sam's stood by the back door fingers still hanging on the lock after sliding the dead bolts into place. "May never go again," he murmured. Turning he took a few steps back into the kitchen and his eyes trailed up to Dean's arm.

Tilting his head slightly Sam's expression softened as he saw the tattoo running the full length of Dean's right arm. The colors were vivid, bright and the entire sleeve was a pattern of intertwined religious symbols, occult signs, shapes and images that were familiar yet unusual. Drawn to the blues and greens colouring the man's skin Sam stepped closer. Lifting his hand his fingers trailed over the design on the back of Dean's arm. "Beautiful," he murmured.

"Yeah?" Dean smiled and this time it was all genuine. He couldn't help being a little proud. His tattoos had been worth all the pain and money – well - there wasn't too much pain but the _money_ \- and Dean liked showing them off. Sadly it came with a reputation in most places. Dean was glad Sam didn’t think that way.

"It's taken almost ten years to get these all. Not done but well, running out of room on my arm." Dean clapped his hands together and nodded at Sam. "So how about that beer?"

Lifting his gaze to Dean's face, Sam blinked and turned to head over to the fridge. Yanking the door open he pulled out a beer for the man and walked back to hand it to him. "Here." Never having been in _quite_ the same situation before Sam wasn't sure if he was supposed to thank Dean or assume it was something he did. "Thank you," he settled on being polite and sank down into one of the kitchen chairs.

Joining Sam at the kitchen table, Dean nodded; flicking the top of the beer open and watching carbonation fizzle up. "You're welcome."

For a long time Dean had done the socially acceptable thing, said simply _don't mention it_ and whatever. But a few dozen hunts later and Dean knew he damn well deserved that thank you. "You got a million questions running through your mind right now? I can help." Dean pulled from his beer and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.

"Why me?" It was the one thing Sam had been wondering since he had been struggling to breathe in the bar. That hand with a death-grip on his throat had kind of been a wakeup call. What was it that Sam did? He'd simply been sitting there at the bar enjoying a beer. Staring across at Dean Sam didn't even blink, his eyes wide and watery. "What did I do?" He tugged his jacket tighter around him.

"Nothing." That was an easy one and in most cases Dean would have left it at that but Sam looked pretty broken up and Dean sighed. Leaning forward he rested his elbows into the table and drummed his fingers down. "Look, you're hot yeah? You know this right? So _of course_ you caught Kane's eyes. I can't say what he was planning on doing with you but, that's just the way the vampires work you know? There's not any real rhyme or reason to it. Hot guy, Kane wants the hot guy. That's how it goes."

Brow furrowing in confusion Sam looked down at Dean's arm again, eyes traveling over the intricate designs. "Hot? He'll come back?" Dean sounded very certain that he knew what was going on. In his mind he was already wondering how long it might take for him to pack up what was important to him, get out, and find a new city to live in.

It was about that moment when Dean realized this hunt had taken on a greater level than some vampires to trail around after. "Listen, Sam. This is what I _do_ alright? I know how to handle these things, and I'm going to take care of the issue. It's not anything you have to worry about anymore. Vampires, it's like the myths for the most part. Sunshine and all that, so, just stay inside at night. You're safe here."

All of this was so _familiar_ to Dean he was already running through the ritual in his mind, what to do, how to find them. Because he'd pissed off Kane, threatened his mate this wasn't likely to be let go of any time soon.

"You gonna stay, where do you stay?" Frowning, Sam looked down at his own hands tightly gripping the thighs of his jeans. "Where are you staying in town, I mean." His mind was all over the place. If Vampires were real then what else was? Ghosts? Monsters? Trolls? The fucking tooth fairy?

"Hadn't really picked a place, just rolled in and managed to track them to the bar. I'll pick a motel, got any recommendations?" Dean was going for humour. People didn't often understand his brand of it though so, he wasn't surprised that Sam didn't laugh. Plus this whole thing was probably blowing his mind.

"Can you stay here?" Sam's eyes lifted slowly to Dean's face. The thought of spending the night there in the house alone was suddenly almost unbearable. In the seven years he'd lived there he'd never been nervous for a single moment and now he was terrified.

Pressing his lips together had Dean trailed his finger along the beer top. "Uh, okay. Sure. Saves me a night of paying." Dean could have weighed the pros and cons but he'd rather not waste his time doing that. "Look you're gonna be fine Sam. Me? I'm not a big fan of people dying. So, it'll all be just, fine." Dean was running out of his reassurances, using up the last of his reserves when it came to vocal interactions.

Sam stood up so quickly he banged his thigh against the bottom of the table and lifted it off the floor before it slammed back down. "I should check the, the windows." He spun to the side and ran into the hallway and down the hall skidding into the table at the front of the house.

The curtains were billowing into the room in the evening breeze and Sam snatched at them trying to get to the window frame. Slamming it down he locked it and stumbled over to the other side of the room falling hard into the wall by the side window.

Sliding down to his ass by the window, Sam pushed himself up to his knees and yanked the window down then fumbled with the lock trying to get it closed.

Freak outs? Yeah, Dean was used to those. He'd seen it more times than he could count and frankly he was a little surprised it took Sam so long to get to one. Pushing up from the table Dean found Sam in the living room, still struggling with the window. "Sam," he said quietly, stepping up to his side and placing his hand on the frame and flipped the lock. "Freaking out, it's only gonna get you so far and right now? That's nowhere at all. C'mon, sit back, have a beer. We'll uh, talk."

Rising quickly Sam slid his arms around Dean's neck and buried his face in the man's neck. Heaving in breaths he sucked in the scent of leather and beer, sweat, dust and listened to the blood rush in his ears. He'd never been close to dying before, never, not for a moment. There'd been no illnesses, no surgeries, and no fights. Sam had never been the victim of a crime, never in a car accident and now here he was - or had been - face to face with _death_. Pulling back slightly, eyes wide, Sam leaned forward and crushed his lips to Dean's.

His hands slid down the man's back to fist in the material of his t-shirt. _Death_ , he could still feel the way the vampire's hand had tightened slowly around his neck, constricting. Moaning, Sam moved frantically, hands tugging at the material of Dean's shirt to try and feel the warmth of someone alive.

This? It didn't happen very often. But Dean knew what it was. Most of the time he watched people on the opposite spectrum, watched them cling together to try and make sense of everything.

A rush of heat shot through him and Dean's mind flipped instantly from _hunt_ to _fuck_. He wasn't going to say no to a for-sure fuck, and that's what Sam would be. Sam needed it, Dean could provide. And he liked providing. "You're okay," Dean murmured and allowed Sam to strip him of his shirt, pushed his own hands beneath Sam's to add to the reassurance and tugged the material up. "It's _okay_ Sam," he added and that was the end of how he knew to provide word related comfort. Everything else, if Sam wanted, would be physical.

Gasping out a wounded sound Sam slid one hand up into the soft curls of Dean's hair, the other hand slipping between them to rub down the man's belly. _God_ , Dean's muscles were hard; he was strong and Sam could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Hips jolting forward Sam gasped again, eyes welling with unshed tears as Dean's hands started to move across his own flesh. Stepping back far enough to shrug off his jacket, Sam slid his tongue forward. He _wanted_ something. Something warm and alive, strong. Warm darkness settled over him as his lashes fluttered closed.

"Ah shit, don't cry," Dean mumbled. He didn't do so well with tears. So he did the next best thing he could think of which was grabbing Sam on either side of his face and tugging him in hard for a kiss that clinked their teeth. It was brutal and fast, Dean liked it that way regardless, and he thrust his tongue forward, pushing Sam back up against the wall and holding him there to more thoroughly gain access to his mouth. He poured that _alive_ feeling Sam was searching for into each action, kissing Sam expertly with the contrast of a hard thrusting tongue and quick sharp nips along his lower lip.

The air left Sam's lungs quickly, replaced by the heat of the kiss. Dean's lips were soft and the kiss rough. Sam's leg lifted and hooked around Dean's to grind their hips together. His cock was hard, aching and he moaned when their crotches pressed hard together.

Sucking on Dean's tongue, Sam opened his mouth wider - granting Dean whatever he wanted to take from him. It was wet, almost too rough and Sam was sure he could taste blood. _Blood_. Shuddering, he let his hands slide down the man's body; hot flesh and hard muscle rippling and clenching under his palms until his fingers could hook over the denim waistband.

Dean tore back from the kiss just long enough to rid Sam of his shirt, glad the jacket was out of the way. It wasn't what he'd expected to happen when he brought Sam back here but he could definitely get on board now. Their lips crashed hard together once more and Dean wound one hand up into Sam's thick long hair, pulling with just enough pressure to send shock waves down Sam's body.

Tilting his head back he kissed down Sam's neck, refraining from biting since now hardly seemed the appropriate time. He could feel the hard press of Sam's cock through his jeans and he rolled his hips into it, pushing himself forward. "Bedroom?" He rasped against Sam's ear, teeth scraping down along the lope.

"Uh huh," Sam nodded and mumbled, "hall," then his head thudded back against the wall as his leg slid down Dean's so he could try and stand again. He didn't want to talk or wait or think. His body shifted slightly under Dean's mouth, neck extended to the side to let the man mouth his way lower. Nails dragging down Dean's arms Sam pushed him gently. "Please," he moaned.

Something about Sam's _eagerness_ hit the pit of Dean's stomach like a pile of lust filled rocks. It was a stupid analogy but it was the only one he could come up with to explain how much he suddenly _wanted_. "Yeah," he groaned and detached himself from Sam, snagging his hand and dragging him down the hall.

The bedroom was at the far end of the house, easy to find, and Dean spared an amused glance at the clothes thrown half hazard across the floor before spinning Sam and pushing him back onto the large king sized bed.

He wasted no time, flipping the button free from his jeans and dragging the zipper down. Sam's eyes stared up at him, dark with arousal and Dean smirked as he pushed the material down, kicking out his shoes and socks in the process.

Next Dean was on his knees at the foot of the bed, slipping Sam's own shoes and socks off and crawling up to work along his waistline. In proportionate balance Sam's cock was _huge_ , brushing full and hard, red swollen up against his abs and smearing a shiny line of pre-come. Dean yanked at the jeans and boxers until Sam was just as naked as him and hooked hands under his arms to pull him up the mattress. "You got lube, condoms?" Dean asked between another series of hard brutal kisses and the roll of hips that brushed their cocks together and trailed his words off in a moan.

Sucking in air Sam flung his arm out to the side scattering a handful of objects onto the floor as his palm swept across the top of the night stand. Yanking the drawer open he curled his fingers around a small bottle and pulled his arm back. "Here," he growled, dropped the bottle to slide his hands down over Dean's ass, fingers digging in hard. _God_ he didn't want to be pulled out of the moment, the warmth and myriad of sensations racing through him. He hissed into the kiss when Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip but it shot through him like a bullet sending his hips snapping up to grind against the other man's. "Do it, just-" Another vicious slide of lips crushed the words away and Sam growled low and long.

"Shit," Dean gasped and grabbed the bottle, staring down at it for a moment before slithering back and sitting between Sam's spread legs. He slicked his fingers quickly, pressing two fingers against the man's entrance before shoving both in. It hit him, somewhere between Sam's loud guttural moan and the stretch of his fingers, that something was missing. "Condom," he panted, completely enthralled by the way Sam's body responded to his.

Dean wasn't lying when he'd said he'd been with a fair amount of people, Sam was rapidly escalating up the list of hottest partners ever. Every touch seemed to explode in him and it probably had to do with what he'd just been through but Dean liked to claim some of the responsibility for himself.

Shaking his head Sam's eyes opened slowly and he gazed up at Dean, "no." Then, "please." And his heart thundered because he didn't _take_ chances like that but he didn't care - couldn't care just then. Letting his head fall back he moaned softly, clenching tight around Dean's fingers and shifting lower. His hips rolled up, hands moving over Dean's back as he learned all the curves and lines, the bone, the flesh. He'd beg all night if that's what it took to get Dean to make him feel alive.

"Jesus," Dean groaned, not completely sure why the idea of not using a condom suddenly seemed _fantastic_. He always did, no matter what, so it wasn't like he wasn't clean but there was a certain level of faith he was putting in this near stranger that he was just as clean.

Dean caved in the end because honestly? He didn't care so much if he contracted some disease that could kill him. Shoving his thoughts away Dean dropped in, focusing on the _here_ and shoving a third finger roughly up inside the man. Sam only gasped and rocked back down into the intrusion; Dean sucked in a sharp breath and spread his fingers wide.

Sam's lips found Dean's again and he poured every ounce of fear, anxiety and confusion into kissing the man above him. He sucked on his bottom lip, drawing him closer, teased his way into Dean's mouth with his own tongue. He tasted of beer but it mingled with the more earthy smells of the man and Sam committed it all to memory. Restless hands moved down Dean's sides, swept up to the small of his back then down again over the rise of his ass. He touched the stranger everywhere he could. And _God_ the feel of his fingers, the burn was there like it always was but this was different. It was _more_ somehow and Sam needed like he never had before.

Sliding one hand between them Sam curled his long fingers around Dean's rigid flesh. Their moans sounded almost at the same time and Sam flopped back down onto the bed. He stroked Dean's cock, flicking his fingers one by one over the sensitive head - tempting the man. "Now," he murmured.

Grunting at the way his hips snapped forward into Sam's hands Dean pulled his fingers free and slid back. Hooking a hand under one of Sam's legs he pushed it to the opposite side and roughly turned the man onto his stomach, instantly shifting forward.

Dean didn't even have to force Sam onto his hands and knees and it made a pleased smile flicker across his face. Gathering a little more lube he slicked his cock quickly, wiping his hand on the blanket before nudging Sam's legs wider apart and lining himself up. Most times Dean would have teased a little, worked up the thrill but he knew what Sam wanted and was more than ready to give it to him.

 _Now_. Dean's hips snapped forward and he sank completely inside the man in one fluid thrust, head falling back, hand pressing into the base of Sam's spine as tight heat clenched around him on all sides.

"F..Fuck," Sam's arms gave out under the pressure of the thrust or because of the way he was suddenly full and trying to breathe through the burning-oh-my-god-pain of Dean's first thrust.

Struggling to push back up to rest on his forearms Sam let his head fall forward, hair hanging sweat damp and heavy across his face. Pushing back slowly he rocked his hips back to start the burn again, moaned and spread his legs wider. The full feeling was sending shock waves through his body, Dean's cock was hot and he could feel how hard the man was. His fingers curled into the sheet under his palm, pulling it up at the edges of the bed as he felt the burning pain turn back to lust.

Dean forced himself to count to twenty both to calm the tingling up his spine and give Sam the chance to adjust. At twenty one he pulled out, all the way and hesitated for just a moment before slamming hard back in. Sam nearly collapsed against the hard thrust and Dean moaned, biting down hard on his lip for just a moment before pulling back once more.

This was about the hard and fast, the quick steady rush of blood pumping through both of them and Dean savoured every moment. Sam's muscles fluttered around him, clenching and unclenching, pulling him deeper with each thrust. Adjusting his fingers around Sam’s hipbones he rocked the man back into him, groaning at the feel and lingering fully sheathed before starting the hard fast series once more.

Sam's heart was thundering around in his chest and he kept struggling to try and push himself back up onto his hands. There were noises around him he was barely aware of and it was more than a few minutes before he realized he was making them himself. Sighs and moan, hisses, a deep growl - each time he thought he knew what to expect Dean would change the rhythm and Sam's heart would explode and lust would slam back into him. Dean was strong; stronger than any lover Sam had ever had and he just let himself go.

Falling to one shoulder Sam tried to reach down and curl his finger round his cock but the angle of his hips sent Dean's cock sliding past his prostate and Sam's skin caught fire. "Jesus," he hissed as his vision pulsed away red and dark and the rushing of blood in his ears was only drowned out by the moan that came out of his mouth. Pleasure skittered up his spine sending his back into a stuttering arch. "Dean," he murmured.

Somewhere in the blind haze of fucking the man Dean reached down around them, curling his fingers around Sam's cock and stroking in time with his hard thrusts. It seemed to drive the man further down into the bed and Dean groaned at the new angle, deeper still though he thought it was impossible. A fine sheen of sweet built up along his brow and down his back, air leaving in a quick steady _whoosh_ with each bone shattering thrust forward.

He fucked Sam hard, driving him up along the bed with the force, pouring still lingering pent up energy from the fight into the way his body slammed hard down into the man. Another clench of Sam's muscles around and Dean squeezed his cock in time, groaning louder still as his orgasm pushed up, threatening to tip him over the edge.

Everything was building so fast inside Sam his mind was spinning. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried hold himself up and failed time and again, cheek burning as it slid over the rough blanket. He was aching and vibrating and the way Dean stroked his cock was making it hard for him to hold any part of him still. Sinking back hard against Dean's hips he took the man's shaft fully inside of him again and cried out as his over-stimulated prostate was slammed.

Gasping in a shuddering breath Sam cried out wordlessly; his body jolted as his spine arched into a long curve. Like a wave that slammed him flat into a rock face he was suddenly coming; like the sex it was hard and fast. Every pulse of come made Sam's muscles clench painfully tight as his nails dragged over the sheet.

The wet heat of Sam's release splashed across Dean's fingers and he used it to continue stroking the man to completion, eyes clenching tightly closed as his body shuddered. Sam's muscles cinched like a vice around him and Dean's hips stutter stopped for just a moment before his orgasm hit. A low moan tumbled from his lips as he rocked his hips through the waves of his release, emptying into Sam, filling him even more. Dean dropped the man's name limp cock from his grasp and pressed his clean hand onto Sam's ass, dropping down to momentarily rest his lips halfway up the man's spine.

Pulling out wordlessly Dean rolled enough to spot a towel on the floor. He shifted to the side of the mattress and bent, wiping his hand clean then gathering up a dry spot to wipe at his brow. Glancing over his shoulder at Sam, Dean watched, eyes slightly narrowed, waiting to see how the man was feeling now, if his _too much_ sensation had died down.

Panting Sam lay there, spent and exhausted. His body was aching and he finally mustered up enough energy to drag his head to the side and try to focus his eyes on Dean. He was a little surprised to see the curve of Dean's spine and reached out tentatively, fingers trailing along the glistening flesh.

Dean schooled himself not to jump at the touch, swallowing thickly around the shudder it sent up his spine. Rolling toward the man, Dean sprawled out on his side, hesitating a moment before reaching out to brush his thumb along the Sam's collar bone. "How you feelin'?" He asked quietly, voice still slightly hoarse from the previous moans.

Bleary-eyed Sam smiled weakly. "M'better," he whispered. Rolling slightly, Sam groaned and winced when he swallowed. His throat was aching, bruised on the outside and now raw on the inside. Blinking slowly he reached up to trace another tattoo, this one a pentagram with black flame-like fingers bursting out from it. "What is that?"

"Protection," Dean answered simply and spared Sam by not explaining further. No need to unnecessarily overload the man's brain. "You uh, make a habit of not using a condom?" Alright, so Dean had thought he didn't care but at least he could be a little pre-emptive about this whole thing, in case there was a need to be.

"What?" Sam felt his cheeks flush. He knew perfectly well what Dean had asked him. Curling his fingers into a fist he pressed it against Dean's chest. "No," he said quietly. Sending his gaze down to Dean's tattoo Sam's brow furrowed. "No, listen, I'm sorry." Shaking his head slightly he closed his eyes. "I don't make a habit of any of this."

"Hey," Dean cupped the man's jaw, tilting his head up slightly. "Don't ever apologize for good sex." He smiled slightly and dragged the pad of his thumb down Sam's chin. "You're not the first person who needed to _feel_ after something like that. Sam, I've seen a lot of people go through a lot of shit. It's a side effect of my line of work. So, nothing to say sorry for. And I'm sure as hell not complaining."

Dean dipped down and brushed their lips together only because Sam's lips looked _good_ kiss swollen and puffy. Pulling back Dean pushed himself up, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "So uh, should I... is there a guest room? Or should I..." Dean didn't make a habit of actually spending the night with his one night stands but he was going to be staying here anyway, he might be convinced to make an exception.

Sam pressed his lips together and stared up at Dean. "Stay here?" He shifted over to the edge of the bed and sat there for a few moments trying to steady himself. He still felt a little dizzy but he wasn't cold anymore. "I'll be right back." Pushing up off the bed he padded across the room to the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Pulling a towel off the rack he wiped his belly and cleaned himself up before tossing the towel in the hamper and leaning forward to look in the mirror.

There was already a mark darkening around his neck where the vampire had held him so tightly. Rolling his shoulders up Sam ran the water and splashed some cold water on his face. The full impact of everything was starting to settle heavy on his shoulders, not the least of which was that he'd not only brought a complete stranger home but he'd let the guy fuck him. Granted, it was probably the best sex of his life but it was hard to even think about that.

He took a piss and ran his hands under the water then splashed a little more water on his face before heading back out into the bedroom. Dean was leaning back against the headboard flipping through one of Sam's sketchbooks. The damn things were scattered everywhere about the house. "I'm an artist," he said.

"I gathered," Dean nodded, running his finger once down the line drawing, slightly curious because it was his nature. "That's what you do? For work?" He asked since it was the polite thing to do and flipped to the next drawing. Sam was good, whether it was a hobby or not, and Dean would admit to no part of him that possibly envied the talent. He wasn't naturally gifted at anything outside killing shit that walked the night, or whatever.

"Sorta," Sam padded back to the bed, suddenly a bit nervous. It was hard to believe after the way he'd been begging the man a few minutes ago. "I teach at the local art school. Human form, anatomy, basic sketching, stuff like that." Dropping back down onto the bed he pulled the covers up to his waist leaned back against the headboard. Eyes drifting down Dean's body Sam couldn't help studying the lines and curves of his body. He had a great body and obviously wasn't shy about showing it off.

"Huh," Dean nodded once more, unsure what else to say. He flipped the book closed and set it on the night stand, shifting to get under the covers as well. Dean's hands fell to his lap and he turned the ring around his finger out of habit. "I don't do this often," he murmured to fill the empty air between them. Glancing up toward Sam he laughed. "Well, the sleeping thing I do. The fucking thing? Not so much."

"You don't have sex?" Sam smiled slightly and looked down, fingers flitting nervously over the blanket. He didn't do this _ever_. Well, he'd had relationships but never picked up someone he barely knew. Actually, he didn't pick Dean up but that wasn't serving to make him feel any less self-conscious about the encounter.

Barking out another surprised laugh Dean shook his head roughly. "Oh. No. I have sex. Trust me I have lots-" his eyes shot over to Sam and he cleared his throat and shifted back. "I just meant the sleeping thing. And the talking thing. I prefer, it's just a lot less complicated if you leave after. So um, yeah. That's..." Dean wasn't really sure _what_ was going on or why he was bumbling over conversation topics like some time of social reject. "Fuck. You tired? I'm tired. We should sleep."

Sam nodded and reached out to flick the lamp off then slid down under the covers, settling his head back onto the pillows. Scratching his chest he glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "Well, goodnight. I guess," he laughed softly. Apparently, _he_ suddenly wasn't all that good at the talking thing which was completely out of character for him. Considering what he'd been through he was prepared to chalk it up to shock.

Situating himself down on the pillow, Dean adjusted to a bed far too comfortable for his usual tastes. It wasn't bad though. Dean thought maybe more motels should have comfy beds like this. "Yeah, night," he murmured and shifted on his back, hooking his arm under his head and sighing softly.

Listening to his own heart beat for a few moments Sam rolled over onto his side and inched closer to Dean. When the man didn't try to kill him with the nearest blunt object Sam scooted closer, slid his arm over the man's waist and nestled into his side. Smiling against Dean's chest he felt his heart finally start to settle. "Night," he murmured sleepily.

It startled Dean only because he couldn't remember something like this ever happening. For a moment he simply laid there, body slightly stiff as Sam settled against him. But it didn't take long for the arm under his head to feel tingly from the position and Dean slowly let it drop then looped it around Sam's shoulders. Closing his eyes slowly Dean tried not to focus on the press of another person into his side and let himself drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean frowned slightly, squinting into the morning sunlight and shifting experimentally. Almost his entire body was covered by the man, save his legs, and Dean wet his lips. "Sam?" He croaked, trying and failing to adjust under the width of the man over him. Dean slowly stroked a hand through silky hair, swallowing once more and pulling back. "Sam? Wake up." He nudged at the guy and suppressed a moan when his morning erection stirred with more interest.

Shifting slightly Sam stretched his arms out to the side and realized half way through a yawn that his arm was stretching down a lean, muscular thigh. "Oh," he grumbled and lifted his head slowly as he slid off Dean's chest and settled beside him. "Hi." He blinked up at the man slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and scratchy. Flopping his hand against his face he pushed his hair out of his eyes and draped his arm across Dean’s chest.

Dean hadn't stopped to think about it but now he was aware that things could get awkward pretty rapidly if he didn't tread carefully. "Hi," he murmured and turned his head to the side to peer at Sam. "Sleep well?" Dean asked quietly, talking with his mouth mostly closed in case his breath smelled bad. Hey, he could be considerate.

"Better than I expected." Sam shifted again and ran his hand up Dean's chest until his fingers were covering most of the pentagram tattoo. "You gotta get up?" He closed his eyes again as the warmth of Dean's body lured him back to the not-quite-forgotten slumber.

"Hmm," Dean stretched one arm up, hovering there for a moment as he considered what to do with it before slowly letting it rest down on Sam's shoulder. "Not right away. Thought I'd look around today, see if Kane and his pack made themselves a hideout somewhere. Did you drive to the bar last night? I could take you to pick up your car at some point. The trail will start from there anyway." Dean wasn't sure if he should keep his fingers curled in a fist or spread them out, they opened and closed twice before he left them open.

"Yeah, truck," Sam murmured. Sighing he rubbed his cheek against Dean's chest and slid his hand up to curl around the side of Dean's neck. "My neck hurts," he mumbled. Bits and pieces of the night before were seeping back into Sam's consciousness and he didn't like it very much. Rolling back a little Sam lifted his chin. "Is it bruised?"

There was a bruise, it made Dean hiss slightly since it seemed the perfect shape of fingers. Dean reached out and just barely grazed the skin with the tip of his finger. "Yeah, you should take some meds. I've got some pain killers, they’ll do the trick." He stared at the discoloured skin until his eyes blurred slightly then blinked, looking back up.

Sam dropped his chin and found himself rather abruptly staring straight into Dean's eyes. They were a remarkable color, green but in the way only glass can be green. He licked his lips and smiled, eyes darting down to Dean's mouth for a moment. Stretching his neck he pressed a kiss to Dean's bottom lip before dropping his cheek back down to the man's chest. "Don't take pain killers," he muttered.

Some weird urge had Dean's fingers drifting up to his lips. He stopped them before he could actually touch the place Sam had kissed. "Why not?" he asked, nearly distracted by everything else churning in his mind. Seemed to him like a life with no pain killers would be, well, painful. And not an option for Dean, who's fingers were still on Sam's neck, now moving up to trace the man's jaw as if he were a magnet.

"Just don't take stuff I don't need. I mean I would," he laughed softly, "if I got half eaten by a shark or something. If I can manage, I manage." Sam stretched his back slightly and slid his leg over Dean's to get more comfortable. "I like to feel things, even the bad things."

Most people probably wouldn't get it, but a weird tightening in Dean's chest almost had him moving away. "Ah, so you're like, a hippy or something." Dean half teased, smirking slightly, dropping his gaze to watch his fingers that seemed to be moving with a mind of their own up to Sam's hair.

Huffing out a small laugh Sam shook his head slightly. "Nah, artist. You can't draw what you can't feel." He'd been asked about it before and it was the most simply answer he could come up with. "Some things make you feel more, some things make you feel less. I figure when those things come up, when you get a chance-" he ended with a slight shrug realizing he was moving quickly into territory someone like Dean might think of as flaky.

"Alright. To each his own." Hell there was enough about Dean that would probably raise some brows, who was he to judge. "Maybe some ice then, if you feel too sore. Or a long hot shower. Depends on if you're a heat or cold kind of guy." It hit Dean like a fist in his gut that there was something oddly domestic about this whole thing and he pulled away, rolled off the bed and stood. "Bathroom," he mumbled and headed as not quickly as possible there.

"Okay," Sam murmured to the closed door. He smoothed the sheets down, still warm from where Dean had been lying.

Less than twenty-four hours ago Sam had been living pretty much the same kind of life as a lot of other people. Perhaps not the norm, but still, he worked on his house in all his free time. It burned off a lot of his extra energy and anyone who knew Sam was familiar with the amount of energy that he had. Teaching at the art school was great and Sam loved every moment of it - even the more challenging people he dealt with.

So from being the eclectic young art teacher to this morning there was a huge chasm in Sam's mind. Now there was a naked man in his bathroom; a guy he barely knew who had saved him from a _Vampire_. Sam jack-knifed up on the bed. "Vampire," he murmured and ran his hands through his hair.

All of the ideas Dean had come up with in the bathroom, excuses on the tip of his tongue about why he had to go and how he appreciated Sam giving him a place for the night well, everything, it all faded into the background when he came back in the room in time to hear Sam's word. He was wondering how long it would take things to catch up to Sam once more, snap him back into the reality of the night before.

With a soft sigh Dean joined him on the bed once more, hovering just along the edge of the mattress before sliding to his side. Dean swallowed thickly and his hand twitched before he managed to get it up to rest on Sam's back. "Try not to dwell on it. Or you may spaz a little bit. More. Most people aren't meant to deal with this kind of revelation in their life." It was the best he could do. He added a small smile just in case it helped.

Sam's hand drifted to Dean's thigh. "Why? How did you end up doing this? I mean, it's not a usual thing right?" He chewed on the side of his bottom lip and glanced up at Dean's face as he felt the colour begin to drain from his face.

"I'd say it's pretty unusual, yeah." Dean scraped his teeth along his lips and absently rubbed his fingers down along Sam's spine. "It's uh, complicated. Most things are. The point is, there are people out there who deal with this shit. I’m not the only one. Then there’s everyone else who gets to live real lives. That's you. So, the sooner this vampire issue is take care of the better."

Dean's fingers trailed up to Sam's hair, working the locks between his fingers slowly. "I know, you'll never be able to forget this. Then yeah, you'll just be more careful in the future. But it's pretty unlikely you'll be faced with any other creature or spirit or anything. Most people go their whole lives without it."

"Well," Sam turned slowly to face Dean, "until last night I figured it was pretty unlikely that vampires were real." He shook his head. "It feels a bit crazy, you know? Like, I mean, he was just this hot guy - and it seems like an okay thing..." Sam blew out a breath. "Anyway, fuck..."

There was a slightly awkward silence for a few moments and Sam fidgeted a little. "I take it, well; I'm guessing that you want to get going." Dean didn't seem like the kind of guy who hung around for breakfast and some _getting-to-know-you_ time. Noticing his hands were shaking again, Sam threaded his fingers together.

"I should probably get a jump on things. If Kane and his group left last night I'm going to have some serious ground to cover. You uh, still want me to swing you by the bar to get your truck?" Dean slid toward the edge of the mattress, searching around for a moment before retrieving his boxers and jeans, stepping swiftly into them.

"Nah," Sam's lip quivered slightly. "I'm okay. The walk will be good for me." For some _stupid_ reason he didn't want this man whom he barely even _knew_ to leave. There was just something about Dean that was - well - comforting. It certainly didn't hurt that he was beautiful to look at; Sam's fingers were itching to reach for his sketchbook even while the man was still standing there. "No vampires in daylight right?" Sam laughed softly and peered up at Dean through the hair that had fallen back across his eyes.

"Right," Dean nodded and looked around for his shirt before remembering that Sam had pulled it off in the living room. He scrubbed a hand across his face before snatching socks and shoes, dropping onto the mattress to pull them on. "So, well, you should be good. And I'm going to take care of them anyway." He stood, feeling weird in shoes and jeans with no shirt, glancing toward Sam. "You gonna be okay?" He asked quietly, unsure of the things turning through him.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes Sam blinked a few times then smiled slightly before dropping his gaze. "Yeah. Well, yeah." Pulling his knees up to his chest, Sam wrapped his arms round them. "Listen, thanks. For everything." For some _idiotic_ reason it was actually making Sam feel a bit wistful that this man was leaving. He got the distinct impression that there was a lot about this man that was worth knowing. Missed opportunities and all that. Sam sighed.

"Yeah, I- um, god I'd thank you for last night but uh, that's kind of a little much huh?" Dean looked toward Sam and smirked, rubbing along the back of his neck and shrugged. "So I'll just show myself out. Uh, be careful. Take care and all that." Dean didn't wait to hear if Sam had more to say, instead heading down the hall to the living room. He found his shirt by the couch and tugged it on, crossing to the kitchen to pull his coat from the back of the chair and tugging it on.

Sam got out of the bed quickly and snagged his jeans off the floor. Stepping into them he hopped toward the door and then padded down the hallway still doing them up. "Dean?"

Dean told himself he hadn't been lingering too long in the kitchen just to see if Sam would come after him. He looked up toward the man, head tilting to the side. "Yeah?"

"If you get stuck in town you could come back. Stay here, you know, save yourself some more money? Or something." Sam could feel a vague heat sliding up over his cheeks. "I mean. I have a spare room and stuff. You don't need to - we don't have to." He rubbed at his ear. "It was _really_ good, hot. Anyway." He scratched at his bare chest and leaned against the door frame.

For some reason Sam's words made Dean smile and dip his head to hide the action. "I, yeah. Okay. If something happens." He wasn't sure he could go through with it. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever slept with someone on two different occasions. His eyes drifted up to Sam and before he was even sure what he was doing Dean's fingers were weaved in the soft strands at the back of Sam's neck. This kiss was soft, a thousand times less intense then the night before but it made Dean's stomach flip oddly.

Sam's lashes fluttered closed and he smiled against Dean's lips as his fingers pressed against the cool leather of the man’s jacket. There didn't seem to be much point in saying anything else; Sam had said what he could. Lips sliding from Dean's he pressed his cheek against the other man's for a few moments then pulled back, fingers sliding down Dean's jacket. "Bye," he murmured.

"Bye," Dean echoed, detaching himself and sliding back. His eyes lingered on Sam for just a moment longer before he was turning and heading out the door.

Dean was slightly relieved there hadn't been more to Sam's speech; he wasn't good when people got all, beggy and stuff. Well, for something outside of sex. Once behind the wheel of the Impala Dean stared out at the house, sparing just a moment to wonder what it would be like to own a house, live somewhere forever. Huffing a humourless laugh Dean shook his head and turned the key in the ignition, slipping the car in reverse and taking off down the street, this time not looking back.

-=-=-=-

For the rest of the day Sam tried to put the previous night's events out of his mind. It proved to be more difficult than he'd expected. Every time he walked past a reflective surface his eyes were drawn to the still darkening bruise on his neck.

He had wondered briefly if he should have cancelled his classes but it seemed pointless to sit at home and ... well ... fret. Like the _Dalai Lama_ said _worrying changes nothing_.

Leaving earlier than usual to walk to work Sam stopped at Cowboy Coffee on the way in. He was right; the walk had been good for him. The only problem had been his overwhelming urge to keep checking every face for signs of Christian _or_ Dean. Polar opposites.

Each time he thought of Christian - _thought of the vampire_ \- his stomach twisted up like it was folding in on itself. He'd never experienced that kind of fear. Never had reason to. He felt his back stiffen just thinking about it.

Fortunately for him, he'd lead a pretty _charmed life._ Well, that's what his Mama called it. High grades in High School, full scholarship to art school at eighteen, his first art show in a full gallery at nineteen and then a teaching position at twenty. His parents had worried at first that Sam's youth would work against him while he was teaching. But - five years later, things were still going well.

Sam sat down outside in the sun with his coffee. And, no, sitting outside didn’t have anything to do with potential vampires.

 _Did it?_

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act now. Curiosity burst to life in his mind. What other things were real? What had Dean meant about Christian wanting him? Was it physical? Was it blood? Sam realized he hadn't asked Dean nearly enough questions.

 _For obvious reasons._

Something entirely too pleasant stirred in Sam's chest. Natural response to almost dying? Life affirming session of being fucked so hard he could still feel it. It brought a sly smile to his face. There was nothing more life-affirming than sex.

He thought Whitman had said something about desire being the opposite of death. There had been of lot of desire. It just seemed overwhelmingly like something he had needed to do. And, he'd done it.

Part of him hoped that he would run into Dean again, be granted another chance to get to know him. He shifted on the metal Cafe chair. His ass still ached from the previous night and each time he shifted it sparked up that _something_ inside of him.

 _Dean._

What kind of person grows up to hunt vampires? Sam's vampire lore was limited to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and he questioned its validity as a source. Dean, being neither a cheerleader nor a blond teenage girl probably had little in common with Buffy.

Obviously, there was more to the man than Sam would ever know. Each time he closed his eyes he could still feel the way that Dean's fingers had tangled in his hair when they'd said good-bye. And. The kiss. The kiss at the door that morning had been so gentle. It was the opposite of the way their mouths had collided the night before.

 _A lot to think about._

By the time Sam arrived at the school he'd managed to put aside thoughts of preternatural fingers on his throat and even, for the most part, Dean.

The afternoon class was composition. The Golden Mean and the law of thirds and how it presented in both nature’s and man's creations was the topic. The discussion was lively in the first part of the class. Sam loved this group of people. They were vibrant and vocal and more than averagely talented. He nearly always left the class with his mind spinning and pulsing with new ideas.

They began with the most simplistic expression of the Golden Mean - a small snail shell from Sam's garden and soon they were caught up in a lively discussion about how everything could be split into thirds. You wake up, you do things, and you go to sleep. Start the car, drive the car, and stop the car. Hunger, eat, shit. Everything - until they finally reached a conclusion of thirds.

 _You're born._

 _You live._

 _You die._

It was the final thought that settled on Sam as the class returned to their projects to create. It lingered.

-=-=-=-

It had been a long day; a good day, but a long day. A lot of Sam's students had stayed behind for the evening session of his composition class because they wanted to continue their earlier discussion. It was one of those days when Sam was one hundred per cent certain he had chosen the right profession.

The sun had already set by the time Sam packed up, locked the studio and headed over to the bar to pick up his truck. There was something surreal about being there again, even outside in the parking lot. He found himself hurrying, walking quickly across the lot, fumbling with his keys then slamming his hand down on the _lock_ button as soon as the door was closed.

Laughing at himself he started up the truck and drove home. Honestly? Even though it was quite warm out still Sam didn't roll down the windows until he was _well_ away from the bar. He was pretty sure Dean would be amused. Just thinking about the man put a smile on Sam's face. That was good and bad. It was good because, yeah, it was great sex and the guy was attractive. Bad because it was great sex and the attractive guy was gone.

Shaking his head, Sam pulled into his driveway and turned the truck off. Glancing around, he realized that everything he was going to see from now on would be different. He'd never pull into his driveway again in the evening and not _wonder_. Or. He could take Dean at his word. The man had said that it was unlikely that Sam would ever see anything else like a _vampire_ again in his entire life. Odds were definitely in his favour. After all, he was twenty-five before he saw the first one.

Smiling, Sam opened the truck door and got out. He was hungry and he wasn't getting any closer to dinner sitting in the cab of his truck in the driveway.

"Well, well, you're still here." A cold voice sounded barely five feet away from Sam before it was right next to him, fingers wrapping around Sam's arm tightly. "I thought you would have high tailed it out of here, Winchester talk you into staying?" Before Sam could react a hand was up along his neck, pressing purposefully on the still lingering bruises.

Whatever Sam thought he was going to say (or scream) died in his throat as the cool hand sent sharp knives of pain ripping through him. The bruises were tender and the way the fingers dug in left little room for air in his throat. Reaching out Sam clawed at the man's face, his shirt, anywhere he could manage to connect to something solid. Dragging as much air in as he could Sam wheezed, "who... what do you want?"

"Mm, you dead. In a nutshell." The man sighed and turned enough to step into the light, twisting his grip to peer up into Sam's face. "Huh, you're nothing special. God, why he should be obsessed with _you_." The blond rolled his eyes and pressed his fingers harder into the bruises.

A strangled whimper leaked from Sam's lips. _Fuck_ it hurt. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and nothing Sam did seemed to have any effect on the man. "Chad..." Memories of the previous night started to wrestle its way back into Sam's reality. This was Christian's _mate_ \- the word had startled Sam. _Mate_. "Nooo," he groaned as the grip finally cut off his air.

Rolling his eyes Chad brought his free hand up to dig into Sam's shirt, yanking him hard and throwing him in one quick spin across the driveway. He smirked when Sam stumbled but managed to keep himself upright. "Quick on your feet. I thought you'd be a little oafish. Of course, Christian would never pick out someone he didn't deem _worthy_. You though-" Chad snarled and pulled a blade from his pocket. "Gonna take care of you this way. I don't want to _taste_ you."

Sam's mind was telling him to _run_. His lungs were burning as he tried to get air back into them. Throat aching and throbbing he stumbled back a few steps. "No," he gasped, "I don't-" What? He didn't what? Christ. This shouldn't be happening, not twice. Hands fluttering up to his neck Sam blinked over at the pale skinned blonde. The _vampire_. Sam's body finally received the message from his brain and he started to run but it felt as though he'd barely moved before the vampire's fingers were on his arm again and Sam's body was slamming into the side of his truck.

"Ah shit, fucking vampires," Dean said by way of a greeting and tightened his fingers on the weapon in his grasp. He could see the way Chad's shoulders stiffened and he waited, baiting his time for the exact moment to strike.

"Fucking _Dean_ ," Chad growled and turned toward him, releasing Sam and stepping toward the hunter. "You haven't left town yet? I can smell _you_ on him. I know how you work Dean, why the hell would you still be here?"

Dean smirked, shaking his head. His eyes lifted over to Sam and he momentarily regretted that the man was going to see what came next. "I needed a place to crash for the night, besides, Chad the vampire," Dean paused to laugh at this, still amused by the name. "I'm not like you lot, humans? We have the ability to change."

Whatever Chad's retort was, Dean didn't get a chance to hear it. In one swift motion he stepped forward, swung the axe in his grasp and drove through the neck. It wasn't his preferred method but it would do the trick. Chad's body seemed to linger in mid air, Dean almost thought his eyes blinked before the body collapsed and disintegrated. Dean flinched for a moment and shook his head. "Fuck. Kane is gonna be _so_ pissed at me. This? It's just beginning." Looking up at Sam, Dean wet his lips and sighed. "Sam? Breathe."

Sam gasped in a huge breath and slid down the side of his truck. His eyes were locked on the spot Chad had previously occupied and by the time his knees hit the dirt he was pretty sure he was hyper ventilating. He'd never done it before. Hyperventilated. But it wasn't pleasant and he held a hand up toward Dean. "Jesus," he gasped, "is he?" He tried to slow his breathing down, but _fuck_ the guy just blew apart and ended up in a pile of dust or something. "Is he dead?"

"Oh yeah, he's as dead as you can get," Dean huffed and pulled the axe up, peering down at the vampire's blood - which probably wasn't his blood at all - and shaking his head. Christian was going to be on his ass now, it wasn't a good thing. It was one thing to track them, to have _them_ tracking him.

"Sam," he looked toward him and dropped the axe, crossing to the kneeling man. Dean crouched down in front of him, hesitating for just a moment before cupping his arm. "You're okay. Trust me, you're not going to be on their radar any more. It's going to be me all the way."

"Okay?" Sam's breathing had slowed to a rapid panting and his vision was clearing but his lips were numb and his fingers tingling. "Last night," he was whispering because _fuck_ every part of his neck hurt, "you said I'd never see ... what the _fuck_ happened to his body? Why are you-" Coughing Sam grabbed Dean's forearm and stared up at him.

Pushing up to his feet, Dean hooked an arm around Sam's body and heaved him up, pulling him toward the house. "It's better if we go inside for this. I'll answer all your questions." Dean would never know what really brought him back here tonight, or maybe he wouldn't acknowledge it, but he was glad he'd come. "Vampires, they're basically dead bodies already. So, when you cut off their source, they return to what they should be. Dust. So, that's what happened." Dean stopped at the front door and he glanced over at Sam. "Keys?"

Sam stood there for a moment, a variety of expressions flitting over his features. Entirely too much time passed between Dean's question and Sam shoving his hand in his pocket to retrieve his keys. His eyes darted back to the debris that was all that remained of the vampire. Even as he turned his eyes the wind swirled through his yard and started to blow the dust away. "Christian," Sam murmured. "He'll come back." Pressing into Dean's side, Sam stared out over his yard.

"Not for you. He's going to want to kill the person who killed his mate. Vampires, they mate for life." Dean unlocked the door with one hand and pushed it open, keeping his arm around Sam to lead him inside. "I'll probably lead him out of here, it'll keep you safe. But, I might just go meet the problem head on. Depends."

Dean forced himself to stop planning things. Right now he needed to make sure Sam was alright, the rest would come later. Depending on how long it took Christian to put the pieces together. "Here, sit," Dean helped him to the dining room table, lowering him gently onto a chair. Sam looked pale and shaky, so Dean headed to the fridge to look for something sweet.

"You." Sam's wide eyes followed Dean as he moved around the kitchen. "You were following Chad?" Jesus. Sam kept trying to figure out if killing a vampire meant that Dean had just killed a human being. He must have been a human being at some point. Maybe. Sam winced as he swallowed and his hand moved up to brush across the skin of his neck.

Pulling a soda from the fridge Dean opened it in front of Sam and nodded. "Drink that." He frowned and leaned against the chair, curling his fingers over the edge. "I was actually uh, I was going to be around another night and you said... so. I guess it was just luck." Dean shrugged and glanced toward the window. "You want an ice pack? Or, anything?" Dean needed to go back out there, clean up the axe and prepare himself mentally.

Nodding slightly, Sam dropped his elbows to the table and cradled his head. "In freezer door," he whispered softly. It hurt to speak, it hurt to breathe and it pretty much hurt to just sit there and do nothing. "You're staying?"

Most of the time when dealing with people on a hunt Dean was pretty in and out, limited contact. That was probably why he'd never seen the completely, utterly crushed looked on the victim's face before. It made Dean's heart hurt in the weirdest way. Crossing to the freezer once more Dean grabbed an icepack and wrapped it in the dishtowel, walking back to Sam and pressing it softly against his neck. "Would you like me to? I was, I was planning on it, but if you'd rather I go." Dean continued to hold the pack in place, the closest he'd let himself get to touching Sam's hair.

"Please stay." Sam winced again and curled his fingers around Dean's wrist. Letting his head fall to the side slightly, Sam groaned softly. "Just convinced myself was gonna be safe." Forcing a weak smile onto his face he lifted the soda and took a few sips. "Don't like vampires much."

Huffing a small laugh, Dean nodded and lost his battle not to stroke a hand once through Sam's hair. "Yeah, the undead, they're about as pleasant as they sound." Sighing softly, Dean stepped back. "I'm going to clean up a little outside, grab my duffel and uh, get some things. Just to be safe. You finish your soda and I'll be right back okay?"

"'Kay," Sam shifted slightly, "need my help?" He wasn't actually in any shape to be much help but seeing as this was now the second time that Dean had saved his life it only seemed fair.

"Nah, I'm good. It would take longer to explain anyway," Dean gave him a small, brief smile before heading for the door.

His senses were on overdrive as he crossed the driveway, reclaimed the axe and used the rag in his back pocket to wipe it clean. Dean wasn't completely sure how the whole mate process worked, no one human could completely get it, so he had no idea if Christian would be instantly aware of Chad's death or if the revelation would come later. But he was sure Christian would realize Dean had been the one to kill him, after all, he was the only hunter following their trail.

Groaning in mild aggravation Dean pulled the door of his car open, reaching in for his bag and keeping his grip on the axe. He'd bring it in with him, just in case. Popping the trunk he grabbed a few more supplies, a long sharp blade that would do in a pinch for beheading, a bottle of dead man's blood he'd gotten when this crazy vampire tracking had just begun. Then the usual amount of salt and bullets because it would help him sleep. Though if things went at all like the night before, Dean didn't think it would be an issue.

Against his control his heart quickened slightly at the idea of a repeat of experiencing Sam's touch. It hadn't been the way he'd seen things going, _hell_ he wasn't even sure he would allow himself a round two, but now he'd do whatever it took to make Sam feel better. Dean chose not to think about how weird that idea was and locked his car, heading back inside.

With a quick glance to make sure Sam was still at the dining table, Dean dropped his stuff in the living room and grabbed the salt. He worked quickly and silently, locking and securing windows and doors, drawing a line of salt across any potential entrance. When he'd finished he headed for the fridge, grabbing himself a beer and dropping into the seat beside Sam at the table. "Okay. We're good for the night. How are you feeling?" He would have suggested pain medicine but their conversation from that morning was still there in his mind.

"Kinda of like I've been mauled by a grizzly bear. You?" Sam smiled softly and shifted the ice pack to a different spot on his neck. "Do they train those fuckers to go for the throat?" His voice had a little more substance to it; the muscles finally relaxing a little. Dean looked a little tired, but then, Sam really didn't have much to compare it to.

"Pulse point. Blood comes easiest from the throat." Dean shrugged off his jacket, letting the leather drape back over the chair and rolling his shoulders. "I'm just, peachy." His lips quirked in a brief smile and he drained half the beer in one go. "Sure you still anti-pain meds? They would help in a situation like this." Dean reached out to check the temperature on the ice pack, making sure it hadn't melted too much.

Closing his eyes for a few moments Sam shrugged a shoulder then winced. "I'll maybe take something later." Smiling again he looked up at Dean. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." _Fingers in his hair, lips on his spine._ "Not complaining." Sam pulled the ice pack down and set it on the table then picked up his soda and drank some more.

Rubbing his fingers slowly along the back of his neck Dean wet his lips, eyes flickering across the table. "Wasn't really sure I'd come back here. I just-" he cut himself off sharply because he didn't know what he was going to say and didn't want to risk it being something neither were ready to hear. Not that Dean had any real idea what that might be. "I'm glad I did. Second time I saved your life Sam, maybe you've got a Batman complex."

"Maybe. You got a bat mobile?" Sam's smile expanded across his face, he laughed, and then lifted his shoulders as pain stabbed at him. "Don't make me laugh, fuck." Laughing. Someone had just been decapitated in his front yard and Dean was making him laugh. It was quite remarkable how much Sam's life had altered in less than twenty-four hours.

"You saw my car? Shiny black Chevy Impala, sicker than a bat mobile." Dean smiled, shaking his head slightly and dragging one finger across his brow. "You got a million questions for me or does sleep seem like a better option right now?" Any other situation and Dean would have said sex instead of sleep but he couldn't bring himself to initiate, not here. The shit Sam had seen in the last day, it was a lot for Dean, for Sam it had to be enough to make his mind near the explosion point.

"Can I ask questions in bed?" Sam raised an eyebrow. Yeah, he'd thought about having Dean in his bed again, well, he'd thought about what they could do to each other in bed. That was before he'd nearly had his neck snapped for the second time in as many days.

Pushing up from the chair Sam stumbled slightly. "Bring your beer, wanna get comfy."

 _Comfy in bed_. The idea ran through Dean's mind and he didn't have to put much thought into how long it had been since he last just sat with someone in bed - the previous Sam venture excluded. The simple answer was never. Though, when he'd been a boy sitting in his parents bed on early weekend mornings had been a favorite past time. Dean frowned but stood, crossing to his duffel to kick his shoes off and curling his fingers tight around the beer can.

When they were in Sam's room once more Dean found himself automatically moving to the side of the bed he'd chosen the night before. He didn't even realize it until he'd set the beer can on the nightstand and began pulling at his shirt. "Oh uh, yeah, comfy for me general means a lot less clothing." Dean smiled, surprised to be oddly enough slightly embarrassed, and dropped his head down to stare at his hand tangled in the hem of his shirt.

"It's not like I don't want to see that." Sam's eyes narrowed as he teased Dean. Moving slowly over to the side of the bed he dropped down and sighed. Now that things were settling down a little Sam's body was starting to ache everywhere. There was a hand sized mark on his wrist and his shoulder and hip had that dull thumping ache going on. Probably where he was slammed into the truck. "I've had a shit couple of days," he let his hands drop to the mattress, "'cept for the best sex of my life part."

"Best sex of your life huh?" Dean smiled briefly, a quick twitch up of his lip and pulled his shirt off. Staring at Sam's hunched shoulders, the strangest little _need_ rocked through Dean and he found himself heading back to his bag in the living room. He was back in the bedroom before Sam could likely even notice his disappearance and he crossed to stand in front of Sam, setting a bottle on the night stand. "C'mere," he whispered, as if speaking louder would break the moment.

Reaching out Dean pulled at Sam's shirt, gently tugging it up and over his head. It was surprisingly easy to manhandle Sam, pulling him up to his feet and tugging free his button and zipper. He stripped the man until he stood bare before him then gently nudged him back to the bed, rolling him over to his stomach. Dean tugged his own jeans off so the fabric wouldn't bother Sam and reclaimed the bottle, climbing up and straddling the back of Sam's thighs. "Muscle relaxer," he finally said, squirting warm lotion into his palms and rubbing it together before lying his palms on Sam's shoulders and beginning a gently roll.

"Oooh." It was the only sound that Sam could manage. The gentle touch was something Sam hadn't even known that he needed. He'd never had less trouble relaxing and melted down into the bed. Sam's shoulders pulled up a little when Dean's fingers moved too close to his neck and he sighed. "Okay, you can stay as long as you want," Sam moaned softly, "if you do that." It wasn't so much that Dean was giving him a _firm Massage_ as it was just the _touch_. Surprisingly gentle for a guy who killed things for a living.

Chuckling softly Dean worked the lotion into Sam's back, letting his fingers trail down his spine slowly, tracing the notches. "Good to know," he murmured and focus in on Sam's lower back. "So, still got some questions for me?" Dean was more than a little hard, sitting on Sam's thighs with his naked body spread out before him was guaranteed to do that, but this was more about the man himself, helping him settle down, and the other stuff would come - maybe - later.

"Will Christian-" Sam tried to turn his head and groaned as pain flared along the front of his neck, "will he come here? Will he know?" That tingle of fear and uncertainty was almost familiar now. Dean's touch was distracting, soothing away the nagging fear.

"Kane will look for me. It won't be too hard for him to put together that I was the one who killed his mate. Not a lot of people have enough strength to do that." Dean brought his hands up once more to gently touch Sam's neck. "I promise not too much pressure, but let me put some of this lotion on there, it'll help."

Sam shifted slightly, shoulders stiffening. "Okay." Dean's hands slid gently across his skin and Sam found himself relaxing quickly. "You said they mate for life." His eyes closed and the last of the tension left Sam's shoulders. "That must be..." Sam couldn't actually even imagine what that would be like. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend his life _with someone_ , he just hadn't had that level of intensity in any of his relationships. "You'll kill him." There was something _so_ bizarre about the way the words rolled off Sam's tongue and yet, sent a shiver down his spine.

"Or he'll kill me," Dean muttered, biting his lip around the words the moment he'd said them. "It's, you know it's more than just killing Kane. He's the leader of his pack and the other vampires with him, they won't just let me kill him. And yeah, that was the point I guess, to kill them all eventually. I've just sped up the process." Dean half shrugged and dragged his hands down lower once more, working lower along Sam's body.

Sam shifted his hips unconsciously. Unbelievable. After everything he'd been through his body still reacted to Dean's. "Will you be okay?" It was probably a stupid question, after all, Dean had managed to be the age he was and not get killed. "I know _nothing_ about you," Sam mused.

"Not much to know." With a shrug Dean bent over the man's back, applying a more firm pressure along the muscles and slid down. "I'll be alright. Gonna call this other hunter I know, tell him what's going on. He'll know to come and take care of things if he doesn't hear from me for a few days." The last thing Dean wanted was to potentially leave Sam's life in danger. His hands spread lower until he was massaging finger tips into Sam's ass.

"Wow. Shit." There wasn't much else that Sam could say to that. He knew that another hunter _not hearing_ from Dean was an indication that something pretty horrible had happened. Again, even as the worry flared slightly within him Sam's attention was drawn back to Dean's hands. They were rough and strong and his fingers were slowly working the kinks out of Sam's muscles. "Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean was well aware that he was distracting the man but it was in attempt to keep him from overreacting, or reacting at all. Sam had his whole life to worry about, he didn't need to try and worry for Dean too. It was easier for Dean anyway.

Humming softly, Sam's back arched slightly as Dean's fingers moved low on his ass. "Are we gonna..." Voice still rough and quiet Sam tried to turn his head to the side and winced. Every now and again he could still feel the ghost of fingers on his neck.

"I was leaving that to you," Dean murmured, dipping down to press his forehead to Sam's back. "I uh, would definitely be interested in the best sex of my life, but I understand if you're... I mean, Jesus Sam, you've been through a lot of shit and you weren't raised to bounce back." Dean stretched his body the full length of Sam, relieving his previously tightened leg muscles.

"Uhh..." Dean's body was different than his own, more muscular, there were harder lines. Heat and weight settled over Sam and he liked it. He _more_ than liked it. "You admittin' it was the best?" _Raised to bounce back._ Every time Dean spoke his words spun off in Sam's mind making him wonder and giving rise to more questions.

With a slight smirk Dean let himself roll the rest of the way off Sam, falling to the mattress at his side. "I'm admitting the very real possibility that I could have given you the best." Dean reached out, caressing a hand through Sam's hair. "And, yeah, you were pretty good too."

Laughing quietly Sam reached out and settled his hand over Dean's hip. Thumb dusting over the bone he dropped his eyes. "Can't guarantee I'll be quite that energetic." His eyes dragged up over Dean's abs, hand following slowly to trace pale scars and newer pink skin. "You get pretty beat up doing what you do."

"It happens," Dean admitted with a slight nod, wetting his lips as Sam's fingers tracing his scars sent pleasure swirling up through him. "You still got that need? To feel something alive? Because it's alright if you'd rather we just sleep I could hold-" Dean's eyes widened momentarily, blinking a few times before looking away.

Sam smiled again. It was a different smile this time; it was softer maybe tinged with a little confusion. More questions. _What happened to you, Dean?_ "You don't have be someone you're not, I'm not expecting anything from you." Sam's fingers uncurled, hand pressing flat against Dean's chest and moving slowly. "I'm good with whatever," and he was. Strange as it seemed - mind whirling with questions - Sam was happy to just have a few more hours with the man.

He shifted closer, groaning as his neck inclined a little too far. "Is this okay? Just for now?" His body was pressed against the length of Dean's, Tipping his head back _just enough_ to start the pinpricks of pain again Sam could brush his nose and cheeks across the stubble that darkened Dean's chin and cheeks.

At the same time it wasn't okay, it was and Dean didn't really know how to process that. "Yeah," he nodded slowly and wrapped his arm around Sam's body, lifting a hand to cup along the back of Sam's head. "Stop pushing yourself, it's not going to do any good." A small smile formed on Dean's lips, Sam seemed like the type of guy who was always pushing things in different types of ways. "Try and relax," he murmured and turned slightly, brushing their lips together.

Sam's breath caught a little when their lips slid together. It wasn't that his brain finally had to admit to his body: _oh yeah, you were right about how good this was,_ it was just that - well - getting this gentleness from _this_ man. Sam murmured between soft kisses, "not pushing, just think too much." Finger tips were on raised healing flesh, breath ghosting over new bruises and Sam lost himself a little.

"What are you thinking about?" Dean whispered. This was bizarre, one of the strangest things he'd ever experienced, and Dean's heart tightened in his chest. "Do I even want to know?" He asked softly, bringing their lips together once more. Sam was a good kisser, hard or soft, Dean wasn't used to knowing the difference.

Sam laughed then sucked in a small gasp when Dean's fingers tightened in his hair. "Thinking about you, kissing, lips, the way skin feels and that-" his hips rolled forward slightly and Sam's body trembled slightly. "Wanna draw you sometime," he murmured before teasing Dean's bottom lip with his tongue.

Sometime came with the suggestion that there would be more instances in which this would happen. Dean wasn't very sure how he felt about that. But his lips slid against Sam's once more, far softer than any touch he was accustomed too. An odd shudder rocked down his spine and Dean pressed forward, parting his lips to deepen the kiss, wrapping arms tight enough around Sam to roll them and bring the man on top. And yeah, he may have been thinking about that since he woke up that morning with Sam over him, so the low moan that fell between them as their skin slid together seemed logical.

Sinking down onto Dean's body was easy, like second nature to Sam even though it should have been far from that. Sighing softly he let his head ease forward and mouthed his way down the taut flesh of Dean's neck. The man's pulse thumped steadily against Sam's lips and the spark of heat began in his belly. Teeth, tongue, lips moving over Dean's neck - Sam felt himself relaxing, body melting against the other man's.

Arms wrapped around Sam, feeling the man slowly relaxing against him, Dean let his eyes close. He wished he could name the strange thing Sam was stirring up in him. It was unnerving in a way that Dean wasn't acknowledging. This was nothing. This was helping Sam, comforting him; this was an attachment to a hunt that just went a little more above and beyond than usual. And if there were some who might have lectured about this, Dean would reason it was payment enough. A place to stay without payment, and that saved Dean quite a bit of money. "Night Sam," he murmured, hand sliding up from Sam's lower back and higher.

Sam mumbled something quietly, lips still barely moving on Dean's skin as he drew in deep, calming breaths full of the scent of a familiar stranger.


	3. Chapter 3

The second morning in a row Dean woke with a literal Sam blanket. This time Dean's mind didn't need to catch up, his mind was already turning over facts and information and _Sam_. He didn't know if it was necessarily a good thing, the fact that his body seemed so swiftly on board this whole, nearly snuggling thing. Dean could hear Bobby's voice _what the hell's the matter with you boy?_ Only he couldn't decide if Bobby would be talking about his mind or this moment.

Pretty rapidly, thoughts spiraled out of control in Dean's mind. Two nights with one man, two times of falling asleep in each other’s arms, two mornings waking up like this. It was nothing on the blip scale of his life but _shit_ it sure felt like something. That terrified Dean. What was he supposed to do? He should have left right then, shouldn't be allowing his fingers to drift down Sam's body slowly, and shouldn’t be looking over to the night stand to consider whether he could reach the bottle of lube still sitting there. There were moments in Dean's life that shook him, Dean managed most often to steady himself, keep going and never stop. And so, he found himself reaching out for the bottle.

Wetting his lips slowly Dean shifted their bodies, smiling when Sam dropped his legs on either side of his thighs and buried his face in his neck. From this angle, Dean could rub the tip of his finger along Sam's entrance, stretching his arm down to gain better access. A slow, still sleepy smile spread across his face as he gently pushed one finger forward and felt Sam's body writhe and move against his own.

 _Not a good idea_ , Dean's mind suggested and Dean shut it down, focused on physical pleasures instead. He twisted his finger deeper inside the man, adding a second because he wanted Sam to wake up feeling only pleasure, and that alone was enough to have his mind on overdrive.

There were several reasons to wake up. Sam was feeling things - sensations creeping and pulsing through his body. The torrid air around him wasn't air at all; it was flesh and moist breath, fingers sliding and... Sam's entire body twisted serpent-like for a few moments as he reeled under a wave of intense pleasure.

Sam's lashes fluttered for a few moments then closed as another wave of pleasure painted down over his entire body. Lips moving slowly, Sam sucked on the salty flesh just under his mouth. _Dean_. Two days and he knew the taste of this lover. A quiver ran down his spine, muscles waking to the slick fingers working his ass. His arms slid up to rub past Dean's cheeks then his hair and Sam tucked his hands under the man's head. He moaned. It was a small sound, tired and pleased, sleepy and desirous.

Hips shifting up eagerly, Dean was slightly startled by how swiftly his arousal ratcheted up to something consuming. Sam's lips on his skin, his already writhing body, had Dean's slowly thrusting fingers picking up speed. Their cheeks slid together, noses bumping, coming within centimeters of kissing without. It made his skin prickle with goose bumps and Dean swallowed thickly, rocking his hips up into Sam's as he spread his fingers wider, shifted to add a third.

Sam's breath came in small gasps; his heart was pounding slow and steady. His mouth parted to draw the soft flesh of Dean's ear lobe in. Sucking gently he let his body move, hips driving down slightly then angling up. The pull and stretch in his ass was sending shivers of lust through him. Sam wanted more. Words just didn't seem right. The room was filled with soft sounds of panting, rough palms brushing over skin, gentle sucking sounds of lips on flesh.

Cock hard, aching, crushed between their bodies, Sam simply rolled his hips down. He could feel Dean wanted more, could sense it like sparks of static between them. Another small moan, the hiss of a gasp and Sam's hands dragged down to curl around the back of Dean's neck. He held the man still so his lips could map out the lines of his face: high cheek bones, strong jaw, and silky brows.

Slapping out with his free hand Dean managed to grasp the bottle of lube and pull his fingers free. He had to stop thinking this way, had to stop being surprised that there was an undercurrent of _something_ between them. The fact alone that they didn't even need words, it was almost too much. Dean curled slick fingers around himself, going with the assumption Sam still had no problem with no condom, and dropped his hand to the side.

Their eyes locked as Dean's fingers gripped around his hips, shifting him back so his cock dragged along Sam's ass. A small moan left his lips and Dean dropped his hand once more, gripped himself tight and pressed the head of his cock into Sam's entrance, thrusting his hips up to drive him a few inches deeper. Dean found himself stuck on Sam's eyes, peering into dark hazel as their bodies slowly pulled together, connected.

Sam's lips parted in a gasp, he sucked in a breath as his lashes fluttered for a few moments. Wetting his bottom lip he kept his gaze locked with Dean's as his body shivered to adjust. Sucking in a deep breath Sam arched his back slowly and took _more_ , drew Dean's cock deeper. Thick and full, hot, Sam could feel every inch of rigid flesh filling him. Trailing kisses down Dean's cheek, neck, along his collar bone, Sam finally rolled his body up slightly and sank down on Dean's cock with a final hiss of breath.

Reaching up, Dean's hands fluttered along the back of Sam's head, through his hair and down his shoulders, down his back. His finger tips pushed into the small of Sam's back, holding him in place as he rocked his body up, slow, deep thrusts forward. Hands sliding back up once more, Dean framed Sam's face with his palms and brought him forward, parted his lips to rock against Sam's. The speed of their gentle rocking together twisted in time with the graze of their tongues, swirling almost languidly. Dean's chest rose and fell shakily as he inhaled through his nose, curling his fingers loosely into Sam's hair.

Sam let his eyes close finally as he sank forward into the kiss. His hands slid down to press against Dean's chest, holding him there - _just for now_ \- something ached in Sam's chest. _For now._ Moaning louder Sam rocked harder, wanting to feel the shift and grind of the man under him. It was almost addictive. Even more than the urgent sex of the other night Sam found himself just absorbed in everything about the man beneath him. Heat, smooth skin between scars, the way he panted quietly almost as though he was holding back.

Falling forward again Sam kissed his way back to Dean's ear, tongue darting inside for a moment before he whispered, "just let go."

Wetting his lips, rocking himself forward into Sam, Dean closed his eyes and considered if he could do that. Just let go. Curling his arms beneath Sam's arms, around his shoulders, Dean pushed at them and, in one fluid movement, rolled them. Dean groaned when Sam's muscles clenched around him, holding in him place, and he ignored that this was probably not the _letting go_ Sam had in mind. At this angle though, Dean could rock his body more steadily down into Sam's, deep fluid thrusts that retreated as swiftly as they penetrated. His chest pressed down against Sam's, effectively holding him there, lips brushing just barely.

Sam's breath shot out of his body and he let his head fall back. The pain from his injuries dizzied his vision for a moment and he blinked up at Dean. Reaching for the sweat damp nape of the man's neck Sam pulled him back down - his own body curling up almost painfully to reach soft, full lips. And, somehow, in the midst of all that, in the midst of flesh and thrusting - _ohgodfuck_ \- Sam felt more. Something sparked to life somewhere inside him and his fingers skittered down Dean's back to curl hard into the man's ass and pull hard. Full, then gone and Sam wanted him. It was push and pull and heat and too little and _God_ , there weren't enough sounds for this.

Dean had no real concept of how long he rocked into Sam. He had no idea if he could even begin to measure the time passing with each time their bodies connected. Quick breaths fell between deep, thorough kisses that had his lips numb and Dean's arms were still hooked under Sam's shoulders. His toes shifted along the bed sheet, an odd thing for him to notice but Dean felt a little like his entire body was over sensitive and pin pricked.

Picking up speed, Dean thrust hard and deep within Sam, feeling legs wrap and tighten around his waist. His head dropped into the crook of Sam's neck and he panted against the skin, pressing his lips to the bruise and simply resting.

Sam's heart beats all ran together and he moaned against Dean's ear. Each puff of Dean's breath against Sam's flesh sent shivers of water-cool-sensation trickling down his body. _So much from so little._ Holding tight, legs, arms, however he could grip onto Dean, Sam rode through the waves of pleasure and the way his muscles tightened and unclenched. It was all movement and smooth and calm and _fuck_ it was better than Sam thought possible. After a while Sam couldn't even tell the difference between the dull ache of pain from the damage to his body and the pleasure that was ripping through him.

Already, _too soon_ , he could feel his orgasm spark to life in his belly. The constant pressure on his weeping cock was almost too much. Hips still rocking up, grinding into Dean's, Sam could feel his balls tighten with pain-pleasure as the head of Dean's cock thrust into him at exactly the right angle. Lurching up off the bed Sam's fingers clawed at the man's back as his come pulsed free and pooled warm between their slick bodies.

Crushing his lips once more against Sam's, Dean thrust his body forward hard, pushing the man through his release as his own sparked forward. Dean drank in Sam's moan, echoed it with his own and lost himself to the tight clench of muscles around him. His orgasm weighed down over him, sending a shudder down his spine and causing his hips to roll forward in several long deep thrusts. When he pulled back from the kiss it was with a gasp, collapsing onto Sam's body and lingering there, breathing in his sweat laced scent with each shaky inhale.

When Sam could finally move his arms he cinched them tight around Dean's neck and lapped lazily at the man's mouth. Every few moments his body would twitch as the pleasure bled out of his muscles. "Morning," he whispered into Dean's hair. Happiness was pressing against his heart and he already knew how much it would hurt when this almost-stranger left him. _So_ worth it.

With a soft smile - too soft - Dean pulled back and stared down at Sam. "Bet you've never been woken up like that huh?" He said the words in a teasing murmur, wetting his lips as he gently pulled his body back and groaned at the loss of tight heat around him. That was probably a sign. Dean flopped beside him on the bed, not far enough away to make any sort of real distance between them.

"Never," Sam gasped as his body collapsed back against the bed. _Never_ , and it was amazing - perfect- all kinds of things that Sam loved about sex. Soft and gentle and building up like some kind of gathering storm. Dean was a storm alright, stirring up everything in Sam's mind and heart. "But anytime you're in town," he teased.

Chuckling softly, Dean nodded. He almost expected Sam to make some plea about him sticking around, about how they could _be_ something. Dean couldn't tell if he was relieved or sad that Sam had accepted that it wasn't a possibility. "I'll remember that. What're you up too today?" He asked softly, starting for a moment when he realized his hand had settled on Sam's chest, stroking softly.

"Hadn't thought about it." Sam couldn't help the grin that spread out to eventually include dimples. "You in town today? We could-" he shrugged hopelessly, not even really having a single idea of what Dean liked to do.

"Probably will be in town the next few days, until the whole, vampire thing is worked out." Dean flinched at the word because he didn't really want to bring Sam back into that thought pattern. "Don't suppose you know any of the local abandoned warehouses or anything?" He asked to hopefully distract Sam and didn't bother removing his hand from the man's chest.

Covering Dean's hand with his own Sam ran through the town structures in his mind. He'd taken his art classes on a lot of trips over the years to find different types of inspiration. "There's a big old abandoned round house out past the edge of town. It's not easy to get to." His eyes closed for a moment and he took a few deep breaths trying to get from fucking to hunting for vampires in a few moments. "An old factory north of here. Longer drive. It's been out of commission as long as I've lived here. Those are the only two I can think of."

Dean repeated the information a few times in his mind and nodded slowly, processing it, storing it away for later. "It's probably one of those then. Might just meet them head on, so they don't follow Chad's trail here. Far as I know, none of the rest know where you are. Chad must have followed you." He blinked his eyes open and looked over toward Sam. "You'll be safe; once they're all dead it won't be something you have to worry about anymore okay?"

"Can I help?" Sam's smiled had slowly faded as Dean constantly steered the conversation back to _business_.

Barking out a surprised laugh Dean shook his head and turned to bury his nose in the pillow. He inhaled deeply before pushing up, falling away from Sam completely and not for a moment missing the warmth - maybe.

"I don't think that's the best decision. Maybe if it were just one, or a poltergeist or something but vampires, they're fucking strong. A whole pack of them? You just," Dean scrubbed a hand up through his hair and sighed. "It would just be too much. Thanks though. I've got this."

"I'm not completely incompetent you know." Sam turned over on his side and reached for the soda he'd brought into the room the night before. It was flat and warm but it gave him something to do with himself while he tried to figure out why it mattered so much that Dean seemed to think he was completely incapable of assisting him in any way.

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just saying going up against even one creature that could snap you in half like a twig, with no training at all, let alone a whole pack them, Sam it's suicide." Dean looked toward him and sighed. "And it'd be worse because I'd just spend the entire time looking out for you, neither of us would be on our game and both of us would get killed. I'm sorry, I know it would probably satisfy some need for revenge or whatever, but it can't happen." This was one issue Dean wasn't caving on and he kept his gaze on Sam to let him know how serious he was.

"I don't have a need for revenge. I just-" Shaking his head then wincing Sam pushed up to sit back against the headboard. "Well, that kinda killed that whole pleasant _we like each other_ thing we had going on here." Turning he dropped his feet to the floor and tried to stretch his aching neck out a little. "You want breakfast?"

Pushing to his feet, not wanting to be the one left in bed, Dean reached out and grabbed his boxers, slipping them on quickly. "I never said I don't like you. Saved your life twice didn't I? Probably wouldn't have done that if I didn't like you." It wasn't completely true, Dean's job was saving people's lives after all, but this time was different.

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned to face Dean. " _Yes_ , you would have." He smiled and turned to head into the bathroom. Pushing the door closed behind him he leaned down to turn the shower on. Some hot water might help his neck feel better and maybe it would thaw his brain because it sure didn't seem to be working very well. Getting emotionally connected to Dean in any way was ridiculous. _Ridiculous_.

For awhile Dean listened to the shower running with a frown on his lips. If Dean were the type of person to sort through his thoughts this would have been the time. Instead he got dressed and headed back to the living room. It took him less than five minutes to call Bobby, give him the location and details of the vampires, just in case. He considered saying something about Sam but refrained, saving himself a lecture. He knew those lines; people with real lives in the real world didn't go for guys like Dean, not when they knew the truth about everything.

By the time Sam was out of the shower Dean had all his shit ready to go. It was for the best anyway. Maybe he'd just get a surprise attack on the vampires and, with any lucky, kill most of them before they had the chance to learn what he'd done to Chad. He hesitated by his bag, twisting the handle of the axe before rolling up his jean leg and securing the long blade to a holster across his calf.

"Where you going?" Sam had stopped just inside the living room door with a towel slung low on his hips. "I was gonna make breakfast." His eyes moved over Dean’s things. "Oh." He smiled and licked his lips. "Getting out before it gets tough?" His heart clenched a little and he turned so Dean wouldn’t see the hurt on his face. Padding back into the bedroom he found his jeans quickly and pulled them on then dropped to sit on the edge of the bed.

 _Just go_. Dean's voice - or maybe Bobby's - said in his mind and Dean glanced over his shoulder at the door. With a soft and quiet sigh he headed back down to hall, leaning against the bedroom door frame. "Sam, you don't even know me." He pointed out without real reason, they both knew this. They didn't know each other and that was just that.

"Didn't say I did." Sam didn't look up. "S'okay, I get it." He didn't really, well, parts of it he did. But, he was twenty-five, not fifteen and if Dean didn't want to stay there was no point in arguing. "Offer stands if you change your mind though. I like you being here." Swallowing he rested his forearms across his thighs. "Be safe." Biting down on his bottom lip Sam stared at the floor waiting for the tell tale sound of footsteps.

This time Dean was aware his sigh sounded a little bitter. For some reason Sam's words grated along his nerves and he pushed his shoulders up, rolling back his muscles. "Yeah. Fine." He nodded and turned shaking his head at himself. This whole thing was ridiculous anyway and Dean was maybe more out of his element than he'd first anticipated. It was good that Sam accepted the way things were, and Dean knew he couldn't come back. It would only suggest something that couldn't be.

Stooping down by his bag Dean tugged it open and stared at the contents, one last check that he knew wasn't needed since he hadn't really taken anything out. Closing his eyes for a moment Dean pinched his fingers along the bridge of his nose and blew out a low breath.

Taking a deep breath Sam pushed up off the bed and moved quickly back out into the living room. Somehow, he was across the room and standing in front of Dean. When the man dropped his hand Sam leaned in and caught his lips in a lingering kiss; his mouth moved gently at first and when Dean didn't shove him away he stepped into him, fingers grasping the collar of the leather jacket.

Finally breaking the kiss with a gasp Sam pressed his forehead to Dean's. "Stay while you're in town. Stay here. It's stupid I know. But I want you to and if you say no - I get it but don't come back, I can't..." Tilting his chin up Sam pressed a kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth.

"Ultimatum," Dean mumbled, "I'm not a big fan of ultimatums. If I stay, they'll just be more later." Dean wasn't going to admit to how much he wanted Sam's lips on his again, or how, weirdly enough, he _wanted_ to talk.

"I didn't mean that. _God_. I don't know how to talk to you." Sam shifted back a little. "I just mean, I don't want to keep saying good-bye. It's no ultimatum, honestly. You can do what you like - I just-" Sam sighed and curled his fingers around the back of Dean's neck. "I'm crazy. That's all." And it was completely fucking crazy to even ask this. He _knew_ that. Stepping back he forced a smile and let his hand drag forward to cup Dean's cheek. "I guess I thought..." his brow furrowed and he shook his head giving up before he even tried to explain.

Rubbing his palm into his arm Dean shrugged and stepped back, bending to hook the strap from his bag over his shoulder and pull it up. "I'm not sticking around long enough for you to learn this but, that thing you're feeling? Disappointment? It goes pretty hand in hand with me." Dean looked up toward Sam and smiled sadly.

"Trust me, a good fuck and saving your life, that's what I'm good at. You got both, count yourself lucky you don't have to deal with the rest." Curling his fingers around the axe Dean stepped back toward the door and hesitated, looking around Sam's eclectically decorated living room, warm inviting furniture, and little things that spoke of Sam without Dean being able to say how.

"Take care Sam," he breathed, unable to bring himself to look once more back at the man before grasping the door knob and pulling it open, forcing himself to take quick steps outside, not stopping until he was at his car and pulling the door open.

-=-=-=-

Even if the drive was longer, Dean checked the old factory first. After he'd checked into a motel and spent more than an hour in the shower that was. On other occasions he might have napped but Dean wasn't tired. And he wasn't thinking about how, for the first time in his whole life, he actually felt like he'd had two nights of peaceful sleep in a row. The rarity of having even one was enough to make him feel a little dizzy. Dean was just grateful that driving came second nature.

The factory was empty when Dean arrived but he paced the premises regardless. There wasn't anything particularly of interest; Dean didn't know why he thought there would be. It passed some time though and Dean thought maybe he wasn't thinking about Sam so much on the drive back into town. Only he was, but like happiness and peace, Dean could ignore it. Sometimes things just _were_ and it had been that way his whole life, no reason for it to change now.

Eventually Dean couldn't deny the need to eat and on most occasions he'd go to a diner. This time though, he went to a Taco Bell drive through and ate in his car. It didn't usually happen, Dean hated the risk of a mess in the car he considered home, but something about facing people just seemed... too much. Vampires though. Dean could face them, kill them, then get back on the road and go elsewhere. What he needed, he decided, was a normal hunt. Or as normal as they ever got.

And quite possibly several strong drinks and not to think about anyone who's name started with S. Or whatever.

The vampires, as it turned out, were at the abandoned Round house outside of town and Sam hadn't been lying when he suggested it was difficult to get there. Dean parked a good two miles away and had to hike through overgrowth to finally spot the place.

He knew they were there immediately and his fingers curled around the axe in his grip. A good fight. Dean thought that could do him a lot of good with helping clear his mind of all this crazy shit that was likely only building up because Dean was getting older and his body was aching more now-a-days.

All together there were thirteen vampires in the pack, eleven now that Dean had taken out the one in the bar and Chad the night before. The first two were just inside the back door and Dean had them both down on the ground before they could make a noise. Coming at day time, as it turned out, was the right move.

The following four were much more difficult, since the fight seemed to awaken the rest of the pack. Dean dodged around swinging arms and smirked at drawn out hisses, swinging the axe and starting when he cleanly severed the arm off the nearest vamp. A slight smirk tugged at his lips, along with some snarky remark that didn't quite get the chance to form before fingers curved tight around his neck. If it weren't for the blade attached to his calf the battle would have been a quick loss for him.

Dean kept a mental tally at the fall of each vampire. One and two in the beginning, three, four, and five near the front stair well and Dean was up two gashes to his midsection and an ache cramp in his thigh. Six, seven and eight he was particularly proud off, catching the three off guard and swinging the axe in quick enough succession to send heads rolling one after the other. Dean was panting heavily his arms ached and blood - his own and vampire - decorated the front of his shirt.

Number nine was more of a challenge and Dean had yet to catch sight of Christian. They fought along the side of the house, Dean nearly losing his footing on an unstable piece of flooring that nearly collapsed at his touch. He managed to turn the vampire instead, spin him enough to get his footing back and swing his axe up. If Dean never saw another vampire in his life it would be too soon. Of course then he turned and number ten was right there. This one was Christian's right hand man, outside Chad at least.

It took longer than it should have for Dean to bring him down. He had no air left in his lungs, his side was aching, Dean couldn't tell whose blood was whose anymore and for a moment he really thought this was it for him. It would be okay, if he could take out Christian than Sam would be safe and somehow, dying after that didn't seem so bad.

"You killed my mate," Christian said from the shadows the minute Dean had taken down number ten.

Bending over, Dean pressed his hands to his knees and panted heavily. "Yeah, well, he tried to kill mine." The words were out before Dean could rein them back in and he could see Christian's head tilt to the side slightly. "Look. Dude, I'm pretty fucking tired. And well, I'm dirty. I hate being covered in blood. So, could we just do this?"

"You think you're going to win," Christian stepped forward and made no pretence of stretching his muscles or anything. Dean knew he just kind of came ready for these types of things.

"You have to stop stating the obvious," Dean grunted, pushing himself up and curving his hands into his back, leaning back to stretch the muscle. "Don't supposed you'd be interested in stepping forward so I can just kill you now and get it over with yeah?" Looking up hopefully Dean just found himself staring into narrowed eyes and sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Figures."

"I'm going to kill you," Christian continued in the cold whisper and stepped forward. "Then I'm going to kill, what was it? Sam? Your _mate_. I can smell him on you, you know." Christian made a point of sniffing the air as if that could pull in more of the scent. "It'll be easy to track him down. Maybe I won't even kill him. Maybe I'll turn him, make him mine. That would drive you crazy I'm sure but, you'll be dead so it won't matter."

Anger and irritation, along with the swell of _need_ to protect Sam had Dean surging forward. His fist collided hard with the side of Christian's jaw, hard enough to actually make the vampire stumble. "You're not gonna _touch_ Sam," he growled and stepped back, bent in half and drove Christian hard across the room. They collided into the wall and sharp nails dug into his arm, sliding over the leather, Dean could hear the fabric tear.

"Oh you... _fucker_ ," Dean growled even louder and pulled back enough to peer down at the torn fabric. "That alone is death worthy," he hissed and spun, swooped down and grabbed the axe.

"I'll make sure Sam remembers you," Christian pointed out, hardly looking bothered to be worried about what Dean was about to do.

That was about all Dean could take. Hearing Christian say Sam's name once more, anger flared in him and Dean couldn't take any more. An intense wave of protectiveness shot up through him and Dean inhaled sharply, held it and swung forward. It should have been harder to take Christian down but the adrenaline was enough to have Dean panting, like maybe he could have lifted a car or something if he needed too. And it completely, wholly, terrified Dean that his desire to protect Sam was such a driving force.

For just a moment Dean acknowledged that he should have been relieved, he'd done what he was meant to do and now he could move on. Then a sharp pain was coursing through his system and Dean gasped, clutching at himself and stumbling forward. He couldn't decide if it was his side where the gashes were, or his back from being thrown around, his neck from tightening fingers or his heart from... from everything. It didn't make sense, it made his vision blur and he took three quick steps and fell.

But he didn't stop at the ground. Instead the floor gave out beneath him, caved in and Dean collided hard with cold cement before the world went dark.

-=-=-=-

Three days had passed since Dean had left Sam standing in his living room feeling like a bit of an idiot. Okay, a _lot_ like an idiot. But, he moved on. After all, there was no point in waiting for things to happen or mourning things that you don't think will ever happen. It was no way to live life - waiting for nebulous moments to repeat themselves.

His life had fallen back into its normal pattern surprisingly. Sam taught, he drew. He might have sketched a pair of beautiful eyes, with a hint of pain in them; he might have even colored them with green watercolor paint. But he went back to the way things were. _Before_ and _after_.

 _They met._

 _They made a connection._

 _It was severed._

Sam's heart still beat a little fast if he were outside at night but he sensed that Dean had done what he promised and rid their town of the vampires. Sam was sure, with time he would forget. The vampires, that is.

Tuesday night was his latest class so at nine pm he was still cooking supper. The knock at his door surprised him; after all, it was too late for a social call from his neighbors. Even while he was walking to the front door he was reprimanding himself for having even the vaguest hope that he might find Dean on the other side of the door.

It wasn't Dean.

There was an older man, maybe in his fifties. Under the rim of his worn and dirty baseball cap was the kind of face that Sam loved to draw. A bushy beard clung to his bold chin and he had the eyes of a man who liked to laugh but had also seen a lot of grief. "Hello," Sam said. He curled his fingers round the edge of the door ready to close it if need be.

"Sam Colt?" The man asked, clearing his throat though it did nothing to make his voice less gruff.

"Yeah, can I help you?"

"My name is Bobby, I've heard my associate, well, Dean, he may have been by recently? Helped you out with some stuff?"

Sam pulled the door open a little wilder. "Yeah, Dean was here three days ago. Is he okay?" Something dark and cold bit into Sam's chest.

"Three days," Bobby pulled his hat off and rubbed the back of his wrist across his brow. "M'sure he's fine. Just, said he'd call after taking care of the vamp-" Bobby cut off sharply and looked up at Sam, clearly judging his expression. "Can I come in? Ask you a few questions?"

"I know about them, the vampires. It was their," Sam shrugged, "I dunno their leader who attacked me." Pulling the door the rest of the way open Sam stepped aside to let Bobby in. "I know where Dean was going to look for them." His brow furrowed. He'd been assuming that Dean had simply taken off after finishing up his work. Sam could see the worry on Bobby's face.

Tugging his hat back on Bobby's gaze swept around the room as he stepped in, crossing slowly, finger swiping out and gathering lingering salt on the window frame. He rolled it between his fingers and turned back to Sam. "Kane. Dean's been tracking them awhile. He didn't mention you when we spoke on the phone." It was just a fact, not meant to be hurtful and Bobby's eyes continued to roam around the living room. "It's not like Dean to not check in when he said he would. You say you know where he went?"

"Yeah, he asked me about big places that were abandoned - space like that. There were two, an old factory and a round house. I have no idea where he went thought because he didn't come back here again." Sam's lips were a thin line when he finished. He watched Bobby taking in everything in the room. "He stayed here, helping me, I was hurt." Sam tugged his shirt collar down to show his now purple and almost black bruise.

A strange expression filtered across Bobby's face for just a moment before he nodded. "I see. It's just like Dean then." He scrubbed his hand across his face once more and sighed. "Well. Guess I better go look at those places then. Three days," Bobby sighed and shook his head.

Sam stepped in between Bobby and the door. "I can show you." Turning quickly he snatched his jacket off the coat rack by the door. If Dean was in trouble Sam wanted to be around to help and he'd be damned if he was going to let someone else tell him that he wasn't allowed to help.

Bobby looked tempted to say no for a moment before he nodded, walking back across the room to the front door. "We'll take my truck," he pulled the door open and stepped out, waiting for Sam to join him on the front porch.

Shoving his hands into his jean jacket Sam tugged it on and snatched his keys off the small table by the front door. Once he'd pulled the door closed and locked it he followed Bobby down to the beat-up truck parked on the street. "Is Dean okay? Are you his father?"

"Can't tell you whether he's okay or not, we'll find out," Bobby half grunted and shrugged, glancing Sam's way. "I'm not his father. Just the man who raised him. Which way?"

Sam gave Bobby directions to the round house. The closer they got the tighter Sam's chest felt. Something must have happened or this - Bobby - wouldn't be here looking for Dean. Sam started to get that sick feeling in his gut, wondering if he'd ever even find out what became of Dean. By the time the service road appeared Sam could feel his nerves alight with a gnawing vague fear.

"Here, this is the turn off." Sam pointed and had his door open before Bobby had even turned off the engine. "It's over a mile," he pointed, "through that way."

"Always is," Bobby grunted and climbed out of the truck. They hardly made it a few steps down the path before Bobby was turning, frowning and heading the opposite way. Behind the next clearing he pulled up to a stop, sighing. "Dean's car," he gestured toward the shiny black Impala and looked toward Sam. "Maybe you should stay here."

Sam bristled. "No, I can help. What if there's something wrong with him and you have to get him back? And-" Sam turned his head frantic to make Bobby understand, "you might not find it without me."

"Yeah, alright," Bobby nodded and swept his gaze across the landscape before jerking his chin that way. "Let's go then." He spared another curious glance toward Sam before they started off through the brush, not saying anything more, clearly both worried about Dean.

When they finally got to the house Bobby held out an arm to stop Sam, tilting his head to the side to listen. "Here," he twisted slightly and produced a knife. "Won't kill them, if they're there, but could do some damage. Aim for the neck. Just in case. Sounds quiet but," Bobby shrugged and led them toward the house.

It was quiet inside and Bobby instantly called out Dean's name, the moment he was certain the house was empty. "Careful where you step, place looks like it's about to fall down."

-=-=-=-

The voices were hazy, somewhere in the back of his mind, and Dean whimpered. Every part of him ached in pain, his entire body thrumming with the swell of it. "Please," he gasped but it sounded more like a whisper than anything else. "Please," he tried louder, rolling on the cement floor.

Bobby's hand snapped out, palming hard against Sam's chest. "You hear that?"

"Dean!" Sam's voice echoed around the huge space. It was dark; dust was catching in the sparse beams of sunlight that managed to break into the building. He could barely hear anything above his own breathing which sounded so loud in the abandoned roundhouse.

Bobby's hand moved, pointed to the lower right and both men tilted their heads to listen.

That sound, Sam's voice, startled Dean slightly through the nearly unconscious haze threatening to build up in him. "Please," he breathed, struggling to move. He could almost hear footsteps, thought maybe he should call out a warning, the floor was unstable, but couldn't get his tongue to work. "Shit," Dean gasped as one slight turn to the side sent pain flaring up his body.

"Dean," Bobby was across the basement floor in a flash, kneeling beside the man, eyes fixing up on Sam for just a moment.

Kneeling down Sam slid a hand over Dean's forehead. "Hey," his lips trembled into a smile. Dean looked terrible. He was battered and bruised, there was a lot of dried blood on his clothes and his skin and it was almost impossible to tell what was actually his.

Sam's eyes darted up to Bobby's. There was a difference in Bobby's expression, and Sam didn't like it.

"Dean?" Sam shifted a little and cupped Dean's cheek leaning down over him so their eyes could meet. "You gotta stay still for a bit okay?" His voice wavered and Sam could hear Bobby get up and begin to move around behind him, no doubt, looking for some way to transport the man.

Everything was a bit fuzzy around the edges, Dean kept trying to blink and clear it away but it seemed not to be helping. He stared up at Sam and slowly reached out, brushing his finger tips against his jaw. "What you... doin' here?" He croaked the words, trying to wet his lips but finding no saliva left on his tongue.

"Bobby came looking for you," Sam caught the man's hand in his own and reach back to pull a bottle of water out of his back pocket. "Here, just a little bit." Slipping his hand behind Dean's neck he lifted him slightly and put the bottle to his lips letting a small dribble fall into the man's mouth.

Dean coughed on the liquid but pulled down what he could, chest clenching painful as he inhaled. "Killed 'em. Fuckers," he grunted and forced his gaze over to Bobby for just a moment. He could see him moving but couldn't tell what he was doing. When he looked back at Sam the pain in his body seemed to take on an all new intensity. "Sam," he whispered, forcing his eyes to stay open just a few minutes longer. "Gotta... gotta tell you..."

"Shhh, it's okay. There's plenty of time to talk later." Sam's palm rubbed gently against Dean's cheek. It was horrible to see Dean so broken. Obviously, pain had taken its toll on him and Sam wondered what it must have been like to suffer there for days - _alone_. "Dean, can you feel your legs?" Sam's big worry was that Dean had hurt his spine when he fell. From what he could tell with a quick glance around it looked as though a floor had given way under Dean.

"Can't feel, much of anything," Dean whispered and slowly shook his head. It made his nerves tingle unpleasantly. "Sam, please," he tried to move into Sam's warmth but couldn't get his body to cooperate. "Listen." He looked up once more, waiting until Sam was staring down at him. "I, if this, if I were different. Sam," Dean's throat was closing up, he could _feel_ his body shutting down, he struggled to get the rest of the words out. "I could, you. I could see spending my life with you." He released the words in a rush, in what felt like his last exhale. His lips twitched slightly as he peered up at Sam, slowly closing his eyes.

"Dean," Sam wasn't even sure he cared what all those words meant even though it had brought a lump to his throat. "Dean?" His voice was louder. Sam tried to hide the fact that he was nearly panicking. "Bobby," he said over his shoulder, "can we go a bit faster here?" Leaning down over Dean's face Sam turned his cheek. He could see the shallow rise and fall of Dean's chest and feel the slightest puff of air on his own skin.

Turning to stare down at Dean Sam's fingers moved slowly over his battered face. "You're gonna be okay, you hear me?" He pressed his lips to Dean's, and _God_ they were so chapped and dry it was frightening. "Me and Bobby? We're gonna get you out of here. Dean?"

"Might have to carry him," Bobby said quietly, standing there above them. "Think you can? Nothing here seems secure enough to carry him on." His eyes were narrowed slightly, head tilted to the side. "We gotta get him to the hospital."

"I'll carry him." Sam blinked back tears and stood for a moment. "You'll have to help me," he glanced at Bobby then back down at Dean.

Sam thought back over all the first aid courses he'd taken in order to run the studio at the school. "Bobby, help me get him vertical and I'll get him up over my shoulder."

The two men hauled Dean up as carefully as they could. He was dead-weight and Sam's heart was pounding by the time they had him almost on his feet. Lifting Dean's arm Sam bent down and let the man fall across his upper back. Bobby steadied them as Sam adjusted Dean's weight and slowly straightened. Hooking his arm between Dean's legs and grabbing his lifeless wrist Sam shifted the man until he had a firm grip on him. "Okay," he grunted.

He trudged along behind Bobby, not even knowing at first how he was going to make it out of the building. Then Sam found himself worrying he wouldn't be able to make it even a few feet. But he just kept thinking about Dean needing him, and hearing the wheezing of Dean's labored breathing and one foot just went in front of another.

They were losing the light and Bobby walked ahead of Sam trying to make sure there were no obstacles in his way. He stumbled a few times; Bobby caught him once, he landed on his knee hard a couple of times but he was terrified to stop or put Dean down because he wasn't sure he'd be able to get going again.

By the time they reached the vehicles Sam was panting, his shirt drenched in sweat, jacket long since discarded. He stumbled to a stop beside the truck, unsure where to put Dean and stared over at Bobby bleary eyed.

Bobby pulled the truck door open and helped Sam slide him in, patting at Dean's pockets until he came up with the keys. He tossed them to Sam. "You drive his car, lead the way to the hospital." Bobby hesitated for a moment before grasping Sam's arm. "Ain't the first time Dean's been at death's door. He'll pull through this."

The last thing that Sam wanted to do was leave Dean but he realized that arguing about it was only going to use up valuable time. Snatching the keys out of Bobby's hand Sam leaned down and kissed Dean's cheek right in front of his ear and whispered, "You hang on for me." Straightening, he only half registered the sad glance Bobby gave him as he stumbled toward Dean's car.

Walking without Dean's weight felt strange after all the ground they'd covered. It actually took a few moments for Sam to be able to walk properly but soon he was seated in the Impala and bringing the engine to life. They just had to get Dean to the hospital and everything would be alright.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean kept dreaming about Sam. It was fuzzy, like his brain wanted him to be aware that it was just a dream, but it was warm and comforting and he lost himself in it. They cycled through a strange series of places, Sam's house, sitting in bed together and laughing over nothing, in Dean's car, driving to some restaurant and discussing Sam's students, making love, slow and gentle on the couch, hard and fast on the kitchen counter. It was like a series of crazy _what ifs_ and Dean wondered if he could simply stay there forever.

It didn't work that way.

When he woke it was to the beeping of a heart monitor and the press of an oxygen tube along his nose. Blinking his eyes open brought with it a stark white hospital room and Sam. The man was folded on a chair not five feet away and Dean could hear the monitor quicken as his heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, tried for a word and winced at the rough twinge in his throat. After a few swallows he was able to croak out, "Sam," and it sounded too much like a whisper.

Blowing out a slow breath Dean looked around the room, glancing at the side table with liquid, coffee cups, and the IV attached to his arm. It only hurt with a vague spark as he shifted along the bed and he could feel every inch of his body. That felt comforting at least. A few more thick swallows and he coughed to clear his throat. "Sam," he said, this time louder, eyes turning back to the man.

Sam's head snapped up and he looked around wondering what had woken him; nurses, a doctor, a machine alarm or some crash in the hallway. Over the past forty-eight hours he'd grown used to being jolted awake. Hospitals, he'd learned, were nowhere near as quiet and peaceful as he'd expected. Rubbing a hand over the stubble on his cheek he finally turned his gaze to Dean to find dull green eyes blinking down at him. "Dean?"

Pushing up out of the chair so quickly it skidded back into the wall Sam sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Dean's hand. "Hey, you finally with me?" His heart fluttered strangely in his chest as the man's eyes didn't fade away as quickly as they normally did.

"With you?" Dean repeated hoarsely and blinked slowly. "I... yeah. Water?" He suggested and once more looked around, trying to determine just how he got there. He remembered the fight with the vampires, the things Christian had said. Then falling and pain, for a long time, more pain then he could ever remember feeling. And loneliness, emptiness, the idea that he was going to _die_ and no one would know. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered hearing Sam and... "Bobby?" He prompted, straining to look further outside the hospital room.

Lowering his eyes Sam dropped Dean's hand and reached for the glass of water he kept on the table by the bed. "He's getting more coffee. You've been in and out of consciousness since we got you here." He lifted the glass to Dean's lips and waited for the man to take it from him. "I should get a nurse..."

"Wait," Dean grasped Sam's hand around the water glass, holding him there. After he'd taken a few sips to calm the ache in his throat, his eyes fixed up on the man. "How long... when..." Dean struggled with his grasp on time, hating not knowing what day it was or if everything here was _okay_.

"You were missing three days before Bobby came looking for you. He found out what had happened to me and, anyway. I took him to the roundhouse and we found you. That was almost three days ago. It's been almost a week since you left my place." Sam pulled the glass back and held it on his thigh. He wanted to reach out and brush his fingers over Dean's cheek, touch him somehow but he wasn't sure if Dean would even remember the things he'd said. "You were, uh, in pretty bad shape." Dropping his gaze Sam fiddled with the glass, turning it on his denim clad thigh.

"Thought I might die," Dean whispered and closed his eyes under the weight of the words. "You. You're safe though. Good. I thought-" Dean sighed softly and forced his eyes open. He had no idea why he felt so _tired_ when he'd obviously been mostly asleep the last two days. "You're safe," he repeated more firmly and nodded. "The vampires, I killed them."

Sam nodded. "Bobby said you did, said you were too stubborn to die too." Sam's lips tugged into a slight smile. "I'm glad you’re awake." Sam pushed up from the bed. "I guess I should probably go now. I mean, you're okay and all and Bobby will be back soon." He shrugged a shoulder and jammed his hands in his pockets.

Sam had promised himself and anyone that might have been listening to his thoughts while Dean was unconscious that if he woke up - Sam wouldn't question the man's decisions. He'd just be glad that Dean was alive.

"Oh." Dean exhaled the word and looked away, unsure why it made him so _sad_ that Sam was ready to go. "Well, alright. Yeah I'm sure, sitting around here. I mean, I'm sure you've got other stuff, more important to do." Things were trickling back in Dean's mind, everything that had led up to this, and he pursed his lips as he remembered some of things he'd said. _If I were different._ But Dean wasn't, and he'd be stupid to think anything different now. "Thanks. For everything."

"Dean," Sam stared at Dean's hand where it lay on the bed, "do you remember what you said? When I...when we were at the roundhouse?"

Wetting his lips slowly, Dean nodded. "Yeah. I do." He looked up at Sam and managed a small smile. "Meant it. Every word." Dean's eyes fixed on Sam, heart sinking slightly.

"And," Sam yanked a hand out of his pocket and rubbed it down his face, "that's only if you were different?" His eyes finally moved up to meet Dean's gaze and it felt like there was a fist around his heart, squeezing the blood out of it.

This felt like too heavy a conversation to be having moments after he'd woken up but Dean knew it was inevitable. "I don't- god, Sam. I'm so complicated, it's not even funny. I'm just," Dean sighed and lifted his hand, frowning as the IV pinched in the crook of his arm. "I wish I could be someone different. It's just, it's never that easy, you know?"

Sam bit down on the side of his bottom lip and nodded almost imperceptibly. Turning his gaze away he ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "Yeah," he murmured. Stepping forward he brushed his fingers over the back of Dean's hand. "Thank you, for..." he waved it away.

Both men knew what Dean had done. "Say good-bye to Bobby for me." Tears welled in Sam's eyes and he smiled softly then leaned down and kissed Dean's lips; holding there for a just a moment before pulling back and walking out of the room.

Watching Sam walk away hurt more than he thought it would. It just added to all the fucked up things in Dean's mind, spinning him out of control. His heart twisted painfully in his chest and he stared down at his hands until someone cleared their throat. Dean looked up; almost hoping Sam would be back and trying not to sigh when it was just Bobby. He didn't want to hurt the man's feelings after all.

"Saw Sam leaving. You really did a number on the kid huh?" Bobby muttered and it was just like him to jump right into the hard stuff, no preamble.

"Yeah, I excel at fucking up," Dean exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. His heart felt heavy and painful in his chest.

"Boy, you some type of stupid?" Bobby grunted and dropped heavy into the chair beside the bed.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes Dean scratched absently at his neck and huffed. "How was your life threatening adventure Dean? How you feeling? Oh great Bobby, thanks for asking. Hey it's only been three years but whatever." Bobby looked less then amused and Dean felt the familiar twist of regret in his heart. "Sorry. Look, it's just; I can't really talk about Sam."

"Really? Seems like he's the reason you're here." Bobby shifted his shoulders under the intensity of Dean's glare and shook his head. "Not here in the hospital. Here in this town. I talked to Sam; he told me you killed Chad. Without considering the consequences obviously. Damn foolish move."

"I know, I know. It was stupid, I was stupid. Can't take it back. I'm alive and that's what matters." Dean glanced toward the door, almost praying a nurse would walk in just to spare him from the continuing lecture.

"Dean, I've raised you better than this."

There was a lot to be said to that statement, as it was Dean had to stifle a snort of disbelief. "Yeah, if you want to call it raising."

"Don't start with me boy, you know damned well I did the best I could under the circumstances."

To Bobby's credit, the man was right. The way Dean was? He was the only one to be blamed for this. "What do you want me to say Bobby? I fucked up on the hunt, I wasn't smart about it and I nearly died. Don't you think three days down in some pit in severe pain is enough of a punishment?"

"I'm not talking about the hunt." Bobby levelled his gaze on him, brows pulled together.

Some part of Dean probably knew that already but well, sometimes Bobby seemed to operate on the thought that Dean could read his mind. "Jesus, Bobby, what the hell is this about? Are you _mad_ at me for hurting Sam? You think that doesn't hurt too?"

"I know it hurts, I can see it in your eyes. I know that type of pain Dean; I've been there only I couldn't change my situation. You? There's still time."

"Time for what? Sticking around, living with Sam, making happily ever after?" Dean snorted humourlessly and closed his eyes. It took a few minutes for him to open them again and when he did, Bobby was still watching him. "Fuck off Bobby, that sort of shit, it's not, that's not. I'm not meant for it. It's not what I get."

"Dean," Bobby sighed softly and pushed to his feet, walking to his side of the bed and laying a hand on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting, the most he would get from this man. "One of these days you're gonna have to admit it wasn't your fault."

Dean's eyes shot up, widening slightly. "Don't. You don't get to. Just. Don't." His fists clenched tightly at his side and he would have shaken off Bobby's touch if he could but he didn't have the strength.

With a sigh Bobby pulled back, stepping away and looking around the room. "It could be good for you. Sam could be. Because mistakes like this, Dean, one of these days you're gonna end up dead and that'll be it. Nothing to show for it. You just gotta ask yourself if it's worth it. If being this way is worth it. Until you're dead."

That was the end of the conversation, Dean could feel it like a weight and he'd been around Bobby enough to know not to push it. His mind was already overloaded anyway. So he was thankful when Bobby went to get the nurse and doctor and for when they came to check him out. As it turned out he'd severely sprained both ankles when he fell, his left more than his right, and that alone would keep him in the hospital for awhile. Add with it the dehydration and blood loss, the infection starting on his side from the dirty weapons and Dean was going to have plenty of time to think.

Bobby left not long after. Dean wasn't that surprised, the man was twitchy enough in hospitals and he probably had a million other things needing his attention. Left alone in the hospital Dean had no real choice put to think. It was probably both the worst, and best thing for him at the time. Though he was a little concerned his entire mind might just shut down from the weight of it all.

-=-=-=-

The crisp cool of fresh air burned through Dean's lungs as he stepped out of the hospital and breathed in a greedy lung full. His fingers curled around the top of the cane they'd provided him and Dean smirked a little at it. A cane. The great Dean Winchester needed a cane, yeah, he was real badass. There was still a limp in his left leg and his right only barely throbbed when he took a step but he declined the pain medicine they offered him. He had a place to be, things to say, and he couldn't do that in an altered state of mind. Plus it seemed oddly fitting.

All in all it had been three weeks since he first met Sam Colt and Dean's life felt literally as if someone had turned everything upside down and shaken it all up. The past couple of weeks though, Dean had sorted through the madness, and he'd reached several conclusions. It seemed like he could grasp it, cling to the logic and go from there.

Dean had to pull over twice on the way to Sam's house, both from nerves and the ache in his ankles. When he finally got there the man's truck was in the driveway and Dean parked across the street, staring up over at the house, trying to figure out if this even made sense.

It took real effort to climb out of the car and he pressed down on the cane for support as he headed for door. If Sam were anything like Dean, he would already know Dean was there. He rang the bell regardless, stepping back a little and staring down at the ground.

Sam pulled the curtain back and peered out onto the front porch. He didn't answer his door anymore without knowing who was there. There had to have been some lessons learned from all the crap he'd been through. The last person he expected to see was Dean, the last person he _wanted_ to see. He'd said his good-bye and wasn't up for another round of _ache_.

Leaning his forehead against the door for a few moments Sam finally drew in a deep breath and pulled the door open. Folding his arms across his chest, Sam leaned against the door frame. "Dean." The man looked healthier, some color back in his cheeks but there were new scars on his cheeks and down the side of his neck. Sam's eyes dropped to the cane and darted away quickly.

"I know, I'm probably the last person you want to see," Dean whispered, appropriately meek and quiet. "I just. I have some things I want to say. Need to say. And if, if you could just hear me out? Then I'll go and I swear I'll never bother you again. If I could just have the chance." He let himself look up, let his eyes graze across the man's long hair framing his jaw line, the soft honey brown falling in waves that suggested he might have just run his hand through it. His eyes were slightly narrowed, darkened as if he wasn't pleased to see Dean there, which wasn't a surprise at all. Most of the time Dean wasn't pleased to see himself.

Dropping his gaze Sam pushed the door open and paced back into the living room. It wasn't _really_ that he didn't _want_ to see Dean, Sam just had no idea how to talk to the man and had sort of resolved himself to not seeing him. He seemed to keep getting it wrong and it was beating him up a little, making him feel a bit useless. Dropping heavily down to the couch Sam glanced up at Dean then away. "You look good. Better, I mean."

"I. No, I'm not. Not really," Dean shook his head and sighed, walking slowly inside. "Do you mind if I sit? My legs, I... I must have fallen on them. When I fell through the floor." Dean pressed his fingers hard down into the cane, eyes turning around the room. It looked the same but he'd have to seriously study things to pick out differences.

"Sure." Sam moved back against the arm of the couch and turned slightly. Dean did still look a little unsteady but Sam was still a little surprised he was even alive. The man was strong and before long, Sam was certain, he'd be walking properly again. Sam waited until Dean was seated then spoke softly, eyes down-turned, "what do you need to say?"

Situating himself on the couch, Dean set the cane to the side and curled his fingers together above his thighs. "It's, about me. My life. I've never told anyone." Dean glanced up to Sam before frowning, looking away because he couldn't stare at someone while discussing this. "I had a mom and a dad once. Obviously, everyone always does. Mine, John and Mary, they were... you know, the best parents. They did everything for me. My mom, she taught me to read, to write. She was a teacher, like you." Dean glanced toward Sam and found himself smiling at the memory before looking away. "When I was born though, she stayed home. And they home schooled me because we had this farm. It was a half hour drive into town and it was just easier."

Dean dragged a hand up through his hair and sighed. "I was eight. When they died. It was, there was this fair. A county thing, a few hours away. I begged, I _pleaded_ for days, weeks to go. I was at that point, where I wanted to get out there, do things. I always helped my dad on the farm and did school, I didn't have any friends, I wanted to just have _fun_."

"So I begged and everything and, we went. Only, there was this storm. After, when we were driving home. We'd stayed late as it was because I just kept begging." Dean paused, sucking in a quick breath as he thought back to that night. He could remember it so clearly, like it just happened, like he dreamed about so many times before. "And, I was mad. I was mad the whole drive home because I wanted to be out there. I wanted to have _fun_. I thought they were keeping me from all of that."

"I can still remember the last thing I said to them." Dean felt the prick of tears on his eyelids and he frowned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "My dad was telling me to knock it off. I was making my mom cry. But, Jesus, I just couldn't stop. My dad said I was grounded from the TV and I just. I snapped. I told them I hated them. And you know, I'm sure millions of kids have said it. Hundreds of times. I'm sure my parents had even said it. Only, I said it moments before the car hydroplaned. We skidded off the road, swerved, hit a tree head on. My dad, he died instantly. My mom though, she made it a few days. Never woke up, just. Laid there."

Dean felt a little raw having shared all of that. But he wasn't done and he couldn't really stop now. Nor could he look at Sam. "Bobby, he was my godfather. Is. He says he knew my mom's parents, old family friend. There wasn't any other family to go to, so, Bobby took me in. Bobby, obviously, is a hunter. I think he wanted to spare me that life for awhile but I was a pretty messed up kid. I kept getting in trouble, making stupid mistakes. When I got caught dealing drugs at fifteen, Bobby decided I needed something to shape up my act. So he took me on a hunt and I met the real world. It was easier. You know, dealing with that shit then my own."

"I never. There wasn't ever really anyone in my life you know?" Dean finally looked over at Sam, sighing at the blur of the man through tears. "Tried once, met this girl when I was twenty, thought I'd give it a shot. All it took was one demon and she was out of there faster than a bolt of lightning. I don't blame her, this shit, it's just... well. You know. More than most people. So, the point in all this. It's fucked up, I'm fucked up. I've never had a friend, never had a relationship, I've been doing this hunting thing for so long it's probably more of a life-line than anything else. When I hunt, people need me. Even if I'm a total asshole who makes them pay." Dean flinched. He hadn't told Sam about that and it probably wouldn't get him kudo points. "Well, that's it. All I have to say." Dean exhaled slow, shuddering after the long stream of words. He hadn't spoken that much in... Maybe his whole life.

Sam had shifted on the couch while Dean was speaking, the words washing over him as he tried to absorb everything. So much. It was overwhelming - thinking of Dean as a child and obviously thinking that he was somehow responsible for the death of his parents and the man, right here, hurt and broken - sitting here on the couch.

Sam blinked a few times and rolled his lips together as he found himself staring over at Dean. "That was a lot." He swallowed and leaned back hard against the arm of the couch. He wasn't even sure where to begin - or if he should even say anything.

Smiling sadly Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. Been storing it up I guess." He sighed and shifted toward the edge of the couch. "So, I... should I go? I can go. I know it's not fair to unload all of this on you." Dean's heart felt oddly lighter, having shared all of this, and he could at least be thankful to Sam for giving him the chance to.

"Stay," Sam blurted out, "for a while." He looked down at the expanse of couch between them.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, "about your parents. You think it's your fault." Of course Dean thought it was his fault. It was so typical of human nature to never believe that some things just happen. There's no rhyme or reason - or maybe there is - maybe there's a huge plan somewhere that people just don't know about. "It's not, you know."

Sam shrugged. "A thousand times down that road, a hundred different times and who knows what would have happened. They loved you and they knew you loved them." Maybe it didn't help that Sam said it, hell, maybe it didn't even matter.

Tears pushed harder against Dean's eyelids and in the next moment he was sliding across the couch and crushing against Sam's side, burying his head in his shoulder. "I saw my mom's eyes, after I said it. Right before the crash. She just looked, she looked so _hurt_. I broke her, crushed her heart and then she just _died_. I deserve this. The pain, being alone for the rest of my life. I deserve all the shit. Fuck, I deserved to die in that fucking basement." Dean sucked in Sam's scent, flinching when he realized how wet the man's t-shirt was now.

Sam shifted so he could wrap his arms around Dean, awkward at first, then giving in to the need to try and comfort the man who was crying tears he probably should have cried years ago. "Dean, you listen to me. All those things you see - the things you know are real that other people don't. You honestly think your Mom and Dad aren't around you somewhere? I don't know where, no one does but if Vampires are real then how can you _possibly_ believe that all the love and joy and everything else your parents felt when they had you and watched you grow up - you think that just vanishes into nothing?"

Shaking his head Sam pulled Dean closer. "No, I don't believe that. I think they know exactly how much you love them and I don't think they want this. You beating yourself up time and again? You thinking that you're responsible for their death? You can't believe that." Sam kissed Dean's hair, sliding a hand up to cup the back of his neck. "Please don't believe that." His own cheeks were wet with tears, the ache of Dean's hurt almost too much to bear.

It took awhile for Dean to get to a point where he felt capable of any sort of speech. He'd never cried so long and hard in his life, not even in the days following his parents’ funeral. By the time he pulled back to look at Sam his legs were draped over the man's thighs and he was surprised to see tears on Sam's cheeks. Reaching out, Dean wiped at the salt wet, thumb dragging along his skin.

"Sometimes, I think about what my mom would say if she saw what I do. She'd probably lecture me." Dean's lips twitched in a slight smile before he dropped his gaze and looked away. "Do you think, I've been on so many hunts, saved so many people. Do you think it makes up for, I mean, if I stopped, would it be enough? Or do I just keep doing this until I'm no more?" Dean pressed in closer to Sam, fighting off the wave of a shudder rocking down his spine.

"Look at me." Sam waited until Dean's glassy eyes were turned up to his again. "You've done enough, now you have to try something different." Sam smiled and leaned forward to kiss Dean's cheek. _God_ Sam had no idea how Dean had managed to stay alive with so much pain and guilt eating away at him. "You need to live. I think that's what they would want." Gripping Dean's shoulders Sam held him back a little, "take some chances on good things instead of on all the bad shit."

With a soft sigh Dean slowly nodded. It was one of the conclusions he had reached in the hospital. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up attached to machines, barely skittering away from deaths door. Almost thirty years old and Dean was finally realizing he might not live until his next birthday, and he took that chance every day. At some point, enough had to be enough.

"I'm not very good at things. Hell, I just barely managed to get my GED and only because it was part of my parole. But, you're right. I'm tired. And I'm lonely and it... hurts." Dean pressed his fingers into his chest and sighed once more. "So, maybe, if it's okay... I could find some place to live around here? I mean, I understand if you don't want to get involved with someone as clearly fucked up as me but, we could be friends. I'd, I could live with that." Dean sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, shaking his head for a moment at the juvenile gesture.

Sam tilted his head to the side. "If that's what you want, friends." He nodded and sat back against the arm of the couch again. "These are your decisions to make, Dean. I can't choose for you." Smiling sadly Sam looked down at Dean's hands, hesitated a moment then twined their fingers together. "I can be your friend if that's what you need." He'd be more than that, the already knew it but this wasn't Sam's call. Dean had to figure out that he _did_ have some control over his own life, the ability to choose things he _wanted_. He had to know that he deserved more. Sam couldn't convince him of that.

Pursing his lips Dean stared down at their intertwined fingers and shook his head. "I don't want to be just friends. The way I feel with you, those two days... everything. It just, it's part of the reason I'm here now. Because I never really had anyone to be _alive_ for. And with you, I just, I kept thinking about you. Dreaming about being together. Hell, I even called you my mate to Kane." Dean glanced up at Sam and snorted a laugh. "Long story. Well, long dialogue. Anyway. The past couple of weeks, when I was trying to decide what to do, all I kept coming to was the idea of _us_." Sighing softly Dean rested his forehead against Sam's cheek and once more breathed in his scent. "I just, I want you to want me. Even though I'm pretty fucked up and don't- um. It's just going to be hard, I know. But I want it."

Sam's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "You called me your mate?"

Chuckling softly Dean nodded and fell back enough to meet Sam's eyes. "Yeah. Kane was like, you killed my mate." Dean exaggerated the vampire's voice, drawling his words out deep and long. "And I was like, well, your mate tried to kill my mate. It was um, you would have swooned I'm sure. I was like Prince Charming coming to the rescue to defend your honour. Then I fell through the fucking floor. So smooth." It felt _good_ to smile up at Sam, and if Dean thought about it, he felt _good_. Better than he had in longer than he could remember.

Sam lifted his free hand and curled his fingers into the material of Dean's shirt. "Dean, I want you." He blinked a few times, smiled widening, then softening against the blush on his cheeks. "I mean, slow and you need - I'll support you, be your friend while you try to figure things out. But, if you can find your way to me. I want you." He blew out a breath and wet his lips nervously. Life was for taking chances.

Looking down, Dean's smile softened at the pleasant warmth Sam's words stirred up in him. "I suppose that means I have to get my own place huh? And um, no sex?" Dean smirked when he looked back up at the man, not telling him yet that there was more than just a definite possibility that he'd work his way Sam.

"I think you should get a place, you can stay here for tonight and we could look tomorrow?" Sam saw a flash of disappointment on Dean's face that was quickly replaced by determination. Smiling Sam leaned forward to press a kiss to Dean's temple. "I'm not sure about the no-sex thing, that might be a deal-breaker." Laughing softly he ran both hands up Dean's chest and curled them over his shoulders. "What do you think? What do you want?"

"Honestly? I'd rather live here. But I understand. For the best and all." Dean nodded and picked at the worn fabric of his jeans. "Do friends have sex? I mean, can we just, can we be more than friends? I'm not good with terms. How about, we're friends who are going to be more but sleep together because we're also males and, let's face it, we have really hot sex." Dean grinned up at Sam, shifting a hand to rest on his chest.

"You really don't know a lot about relationships do you?" Sam's smile brightened. "We can be more than friends. We _are_ more than friends." Even under the teasing smile on Dean's face Sam could see how much the words meant to him. "And yeah, the sex is hot."

Dean smiled down at his lap, head bobbing in agreement. "We'll just see what happens then? God. I have no idea how I'm going to get a job. Or find somewhere to live. Or buy clothes enough I won't have to do laundry every four days. Though the blood stains, that'll be nice to be done with." Dean's mind was racing once more and he closed his eyes against it, slumping against Sam's chest. "Can we just, do this for awhile? Without dealing with the rest of the stuff?"

"You don't have to figure everything out all at once." Sam laughed softly and slipped down a little so he could pull Dean closer. "You must be exhausted." Drawing in a few deep breathes Sam tried to let everything settle in his brain. He buried his nose in Dean's hair again. "Wow. So not what I expected today."

Lifting his hand, Dean stroked through Sam's hair softly once, hand lingering there. "M'sorry, did you have plans today?" Dean was practically curled in Sam's lap, settled firm against his chest and Dean enjoyed feeling the thrum of his heart.

"No. No plans. Saturday." Sam smiled and shifted a little lower under Dean's weight. "Let's see, sometimes I go for coffee at this little place downtown by the school. My students hang out there, we draw. Work in the garden. I nap." Sam lifted his hand and rubbed it down Dean's back. "You're starting over," he laughed softly, "what do you want to do?"

"I can't even," Dean shook his head and laughed. "I'm not used to having days off. Or, you know, finding things to fill up those days. So, how about you choose? And I'll learn what it's like to have a normal life." Dean smiled up at him, unable to resist pulling him forward so their lips could meet.

"A normal life," Sam murmured, "not sure I'm the right guy to help with that." Laughing quietly, Sam pressed his hand firmly to Dean's back as his laughter faded. "Are you? Are you gonna be okay?" Sitting there on the couch like it was any other normal weekend after everything they'd been through just seemed a little surreal. "It's not like flicking a switch."

"It's a time thing right? Just takes time to..." Dean didn't even know where to start on himself, to get better. "I just want, you know, I just want to be better. I wish I didn't have to deal with all the other stuff. Shit, I have no patience for this healing shit. I just want to be together; I don't know, hold hands in the coffee shop or work in your garden together. Or hell, nap together. I just want to be _healed_." Dean sighed softly, burying his head into Sam's neck.

Pushing Dean's shoulder gently Sam lifted the man off him so he could shift to the edge of the couch. "Alright, your education begins now." Getting up to his feet he held out his hand, "c'mon."

Sighing softly, not really liking the whole, not snuggling on the couch thing, Dean pushed himself up and reached out for the cane, grasping it then Sam's hand with his other. "And what lesson do you have for me oh mighty Professor?"

Rolling his eyes Sam turned and tugged Dean gently then headed down the hallway to the bedroom. "Sit," he gestured to the bed and tugged his t-shirt off. "Take your jacket off." There was a smile on Sam's face, his heart feeling a little lighter than it had for a long time. _For three weeks_.

"Um, alright." Once more Dean dropped his cane to the side and shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall on top of his cane on the ground. "And now?" He looked up at Sam, eyes roaming over his bare chest eagerly. He wanted to _touch_.

Kneeling down Sam pulled Dean's boots, then socks off and set them aside. He curled his fingers around Dean's ankle and rubbed gently, it was still bruised, a mosaic of dark greens and purples. "Looks sore," he murmured. Fingers sliding over the rough skin, Dean's ankle, Sam smiled. "You're letting me help you, see? Step number one." Grinning, Sam gazed up at Dean.

"Mm, alright," Dean nodded slowly, wetting his lips and staring down at Sam. "Will you forgive me? If I'm not very good at all of those steps?" He whispered the question, reaching out to tuck hair behind Sam's ear.

"Yes,” Sam nodded. “Dean Winchester, here's my hugely complicated plan for this afternoon. Lay here for a while, sleep, or not then do something else." Smiling, Sam kneeled up and pushed forward between Dean's legs and slid his arms around the man's waist. "Okay?"

Chuckling softly Dean's hands settled up into Sam's hair, running slowly along the silky length. "Hmm, let me make sure I've got this right. Lay here, maybe sleep, then something else." A slow smirk pulled at Dean's lips and his heart quickened a little as if he was finally accepting that this was _real_. Sam wasn't going to kick him out - not now at least - and things might, hopefully, eventually get better.

"I know, it's pretty convoluted. It might take you a while to get it- but you're smart. I have faith." Sam's heart did a little flutter at the difference in Dean's eyes. There was a sparkle there, a depth, like there might just be so much more behind his eyes. The kiss Sam pressed to Dean's neck was gentle, soft, lingering long enough to draw in a few breaths of the man's scent. "See this..." he pulled back and gazed into Dean's eyes again, "learn this look on my face, it's _happy_."

The smile on Dean's lips could only be called _warm_ and he soaked it in, dragging his finger tips along Sam's dimples. "Happy. Alright, I'll make a mental note of it. Happy looks good on you." Dean grinned and brought their lips together, slowly parting to graze a gentle kiss there. When he dropped back Sam was still smiling and Dean returned it. "This would be my happy face too."

"Good to know," Sam said. Climbing up over Dean he pushed the man over, laugh at how ungainly it was. Falling to the side he tried to Drag Dean up, "help me," he teased and waited until they were settled with their heads on the pillow to whip the cover over them and press up against Dean's side.

Exhaling slowly, Dean willed back the pain all the moving had ignited up in him and draped against Sam's side. "I told them I didn't want the pain meds," he murmured, not sure why he thought Sam should know that. "Of course I'm in a lot of pain but," Dean huffed a small laugh and pulled at his shirt, exposing the bandages, "you know they had to give me like, three litres of blood or something."

"Jesus," Sam's hand hovered over the bandages for a few moments before settling gently. "I knew you were hurt, I had blood all over me. When I was carrying you I think you started to bleed again," he sighed, "I'm _so_ sorry." His fingers trailed along the edge of the bandage.

Dean's eyes widened slightly as he peered up at Sam. "You carried me?" He grinned slowly and dragged his thumb down Sam's nose. "Did you really? I was wondering how..." Dean laughed softly and shook his head. "Was I heavy? I bet I was," he snorted, for some reason the very idea of Sam carrying him had him laughing even harder.

Sam couldn't help laughing even as he tried to look hurt. "You _are_ heavy you asshole. I couldn't move properly for a week after that." It was nice, the laughter, made nicer still by the fact that Sam could still so clearly remember the fear that had been running through him on that day.

"I appreciate it though," Dean murmured and brought their lips together, pulling him in for a long kiss. "Guess you saved my life. Think we're even then?" He whispered against Sam's lips, fingers threading back through his hair.

"I think we might be," Sam murmured. Resting his hand gently on the bandages he slid his lips along Dean's. They were smoother now, healing and just that small thing made Sam's heart beat a little faster. Grabbing Dean's hand he pulled it closer and slid the man's rough palm over his own side. "Touch me," he smiled.

"Not really something you have to ask," Dean chuckled softly and reached out, trailing his fingers along Sam's bare chest, dropping lower to drag the heel of his palm over Sam's nipple. "You know, it's going to be really hard for me to keep my hands to myself whenever we're together. I really like touching you," Dean whispered, loving the way their lips continued to brush together with each whispered word.

"I don't remember saying you had to." Sam's lashes fluttered closed and his mouth parted under Dean's. His tongue slid forward to trace the swell of Dean's bottom lip. A small moan eased its way up through him and Sam shuddered slightly. "You in pain?"

"Nothing a little distracting won't help with," he grinned and rolled into Sam more, hands constantly sliding over his skin. "So, think you might distract me?" Dean murmured, parting his lips to deepen the kiss.

"Maybe, if you let me do it right?" Sam's eyes were locked on Dean's, "and..." he blew out a slow breath and closed his eyes. "Can I ask you something?" A flicker of anxiety rippled through him.

Dean could feel the change in the man's presence and he smiled slightly, considering him with the tilt of his head. "Ask me anything." He watched Sam curiously, fingers absently trailing over his skin.

"If we ..." Sam rubbed at the side of his face. "Don't leave right afterwards. Like you did before?" Sam still remembered standing there at the front door watching Dean leave. "I know it's stupid-"

"It's not stupid," Dean shook his head and pressed his finger tip against Sam's lips. "Okay first? I _want_ to be here with you, so, you know, I won't be going anywhere. And second? I kind of don't have anywhere to go." Dean smiled reassuringly and let his finger slide across Sam's lip. "So, you don't have to worry about that alright?"

Sam nodded and pushed on Dean's shoulder again. "Sit up," he murmured.

Slowly pushing himself up, Dean lifted his eyebrows and considered Sam. His lips twitched in a slight smile as Sam helped him pull his shirt off, hands running liberally over his skin. "So, what exactly does _do it right_ detail?" He asked softly, head dipped down under the wave of emotion working through him.

Leaning into Dean's body Sam's lips slid down the man's neck, licking and moving constantly over every inch of his flesh. "You need a shave," he murmured against Dean's Adam's apple before nipping gently. His hands ran down Dean's chest, lingering over the bandages then falling so his fingers could trace along the denim waistband.

"You're not answering my question," Dean whispered, head falling back to grant Sam more access.

"There was a question?" Sam puffed out a warm breathy laugh against Dean's neck.

"Doing it right?" Dean murmured, allowing Sam to gently lower him back down onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Sam, fingers drumming along his spine. "Is there something special, more so than our last times?"

Sam waited, saying nothing for a few moments - just looking. Dean's eyes were darkening, still crinkled at the edges with the half smile on his lips. "I just want to take care of you." Sam shrugged a shoulder and blinked slowly. "Let me?" Sam's lips were back along Dean's neck moments later, sucking and licking gently as he pressed up against Dean's side.

Dragging a hand down the bare flesh Sam's brow furrowed as he stared at the bandages. Lifting the edge of the largest one he glanced up a Dean before tugging the surgical tape free until he could toss the bandage aside. The wound was long and angry, stitches still criss-crossing the healing skin. Sucking in a small breath Sam leaned down and kissed along the edges of the wound, lips barely gliding along the stitches.

Shifting up under Sam's touch, Dean sighed, breathy and deep. "Sam," he murmured, pleased by how it sounded almost like a moan falling from his tongue. He hadn't moaned his lover's name before and was pleased how it felt filling him up. "I like the way your name feels on my tongue," Dean breathed, peering down at the man, hands sorting through his hair.

Sam's fingers were loosening his lover's jeans and he smiled up at him. "You'd better practice saying it then." He could listen to that for hours the way it slid down his skin. "You got time..." He dropped his lips to Dean’s stomach and trailed lower.

-=-=-=

Sam stood in the doorway for a while staring at Dean where he was sprawled on the bed. Arms flung out to the side, hair tousled and cheeks rosy with sleep. It made Sam's heart ache a little to see the usually edgy hunter sleeping so peacefully. He wondered how often Dean got to do that. Sleep without worrying. Sam decided he would try and make sure it happened as often as possible.

Slipping quietly over to the bed, Sam set a mug of steaming coffee on the night stand and slipped back into bed. The sheet had slid down, pooled low on Dean's hips and Sam couldn't resist leaning forward to trace his finger up along the middle of the man's body. Dean shifted slightly and turned toward him sending Sam's lips curving up into a smile.

"Dean," he whispered as he lay on his side and pressed up against Dean's side. "Dean, wake up." Trailing kisses down the side of Dean's chest, Sam smiled as his lover stretched his arms up above his head and yawned. When the man's long lashes fluttered open Sam stretched up to kiss him. "Hey you. You've been asleep for hours," he murmured.

It felt almost automatic, for Dean to lift his hand and trail his fingers through Sam's hair. "Have I? Doesn't feel too long," Dean stretched slowly, enjoying the feel of the sheets sliding over his skin. "Been up long?" Dean's eyes flickered over Sam's face, drinking in all the angles and lines, never getting enough of watching him.

Nodding, Sam pointed behind Dean to the night stand. "Brought you a coffee. You've been asleep for five hours, didn't know I was that good." They both knew that Dean was still recovering, healing, he had a long road ahead of him.

Chuckling softly Dean shifted back to grab the mug, pulling it up to sip from. He was a little surprised Sam seemed to already know how he took the beverage. "You shouldn't be surprised you're that good. Having sex with you is like, I don't know, a really satisfying hunt without the killing."

"Thanks, I think." Sam grinned. "Shower when you're done. We're going out to get groceries. Then, we're gonna cook steaks." His fingers moved unconsciously to Dean's hip, warm and smooth beneath his fingers. "Another huge leap into normal. The dreaded grocery store."

Snorting quietly Dean shifted off the bed and slowly stood. "No bed cuddling? I thought that was a normal thing." He grinned at Sam, dragging his finger across his middle as he bent to get his cane. "You're probably taking this normal thing a little too seriously."

Not that Dean was complaining, Sam was going to be good for him, he could tell. He headed for the shower with slow, deliberate steps, stopping at the door frame, leaning against it. "I'll agree to the grocery store if it means I get sex later," he added over his shoulder, smiling slightly for a moment before disappearing into the bathroom. He definitely could get used to this normal life thing.


End file.
